


Trigger Happy

by gatekat



Series: Dathanna de Gray [2]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), World of Darkness (Games)
Genre: F/M, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Supernatural Elements, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-22
Updated: 2010-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-14 17:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8021875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatekat/pseuds/gatekat
Summary: Trigger's new on base and is looking a little lost. He never expected the friendly face to be nearly as unusual as he is on this planet.





	1. A Friendly Charge

**Author's Note:**

> So-written with baka_no_neko on LJ.  
> Set in the Point of View fanverse at <http://community.livejournal.com/tf_matrix>  
> Amunet Mubarak (all dressed up): <http://gatekat.deviantart.com/art/Amunet-Mubarak-sketch-192756879>

Amidst all the legality and security checks the mech had to go through, Trigger would have been more than happy just to sit back and fry his processors with some high-grade. Rubbing at his chassis, the darkly colored hunter bot stilled.

He was still growing accustomed to the sleek, shiny finish of his alternate form. The humans' car models had surprised him. Fast, handled well and attractive. Not that the latter really mattered to him. It had been millennia since a mech or female warmed his berth. He grumbled at the thought, and quite a while since his last socket.

Trigger tried to distract himself from the subject, the memory file of that deliciously warm yet fragile organic threatening to surface. He'd eventually been shown to the rec room by a helpful little organic female, that while unclaimed, definitely had a suitor that didn't like competition.

In the corner of the human section of the room a lithely build dark skinned woman, her long black hair done in a multitude of small tight braids tipped in engraved jade caps and her manner the relaxed on of a confident warrior and hunter in her den. She watched the new mech, watched him interact with one of the claimed sockets ... Jo, Smokescreen's mate ... then begin to look around again.

"Well, you're a pretty, deadly thing," she murmured after pulling up his file by matching his ID ping on her handheld. "Might actually be worth the effort," she said to herself as she stood and sauntered directly over to him. "Hello there. Trigger, right?"

The black mech looked down towards the approaching human female. What was it with him today, zoning out like that? This little organic was nicely built; obviously fit by the way strong muscles moved beneath that soft, dark skin.

Optics smoldered as he greeted her with a cheeky nod of his head. He liked her bold attitude. "That's me, Ms...?"

"Captain Amunet Mubarak," she smiled, nearly purring her name in her native language, one long lost to the modern world she lived in. "You're new to Earth."

His processor flickered through the personnel files for a moment, optics zoning out then in again in a nanoklik. _Impressive record_ he noted to himself. Lots of getting and out to set up impossible shots, but seriously underutilized by most of her previous commanders.

"I am indeed, Captain," he grinned slightly, his frame whirring as he leaned down to look at her more closely. Though he had no need to - his optics finely tuned for hunting his prey - she intrigued him. "Arrived a few orns ... uh, days ago."

"And only now escaped from Red Alert's clutches, I bet," she grinned up, utterly relaxed around the being much larger, stronger and faster than she was. "Has Ratchet finished with you too?"

The mech's optics dimmed slightly. "Yeah, lucky I came out without more dents in my aft. Can't help it if the mech's got such dreadful berthside manners," he vented some air, sounding rather like laughter. "Was there something I can help you with, Captain Mubarak?"

"Not exactly. I try to make a point of meeting the new mechs in town," she relaxed and leaned against the mech-sized table leg nearby. "Have you gotten the tour yet?"

"As a matter of fact, no. But I was hoping for one," drawing himself upright again, Trigger rotated his upper servo joints listening to the gears whine quietly.

Amunet smiled. "If you don't mind a woman showing you around, I don't have to be on duty for thirty hours unless there's an alert."

The black mech's faceplate stretched into a charming smile, optics brightening. "Sounds great!" he slid from his perch, placing his feet carefully. "Do you want a drive?"

"If you don't mind," she patted his leg before stepping back so he could transform. "You have pretty optics, such an unusual color."

His shoulder and leg plates groaned before his frame seemed to dissolve into a mass of whirring gears and metal sheets. Those yellow optics seemed to never leave Amunet's eyes as he transformed. Finally with a slight bounce on his wheels, a sleek Pagani sat before the Captain.

He flashed his dipped headlights at her cheekily. "Thanks, I wasn't always an Autobot." He popped open his driver's door with a click. "Captain."

"That would explain Mirage," she nodded to herself and slipped into the driver's seat, grateful for the automatic gearshift and the lack of 'you want to control that' questions manuals brought. "I was thinking starting at one side of the island and go through to the other, or we can just hit the highlights."

"Best to be thorough," he shook ever so slightly on his shocks emphasizing his grin. "I haven't really seen much of the planet except for the inside of Hatchet's medical bay. It will be a nice change."

His engine started, sounding for all the world like a jungle cat. "Where to?"

"The near tip; Eclipse Point," she grinned and patted the steering wheel before driving out of the building and onto the asphalt that covered most of the base proper. "If you don't mind the heat and humidity, this is actually a lovely island."

The steering wheel vibrated slightly beneath her fingers. "Heats good, it's the cold I can't tolerate. I am eager to find out what type of terrain I'm going to be dealing with once my missions start."

"Pretty much everything," she laughed in delight. "Earth is not lacking in variety. You actually won't see much of that here at Diego Garcia. It's a very small atoll island after all. Though we do have some jungle and marshland, it's mostly sand. How do you feel about salt water?"

"Jungle, now there somewhere I could really be let loose," he chuckled. "Prolonged exposure to salt water to more sensitive wiring could pose a problem, but I doubt a quick dip would cause any harm."

The mech observed everything around them as they ascended onto the base proper. What startled him first was the brightness of their sun. The reaction of the light on the clouds was remarkable.

"Truly amazing, we never had natural sunlight back home."

"Really? How'd you get power then?" she cocked her head curiously, sending her braids shifting along the seat cover.

He hummed gently somewhere within the trunk. "Artificial, nearly all of it based on the energy we got from the core of our planet or from other sources we acquired across space. Energon is our fuel and as you humans say, lifeblood. It was the same for Cybertron."

"That makes sense, and I suppose with the world lighting itself, you wouldn't really need a sun with all the life being mechanical," she mused as they reached the end of the pavement and a wide expanse of sand stretched before them until it sank under the water. Across shallow water and two small islands was another stretch of beach, the other side of the atoll. "Here on Earth, very little life would survive without sunlight. Even humans need it to be healthy, even if we don't technically need it to see anymore."

"Everything?" he spoke a little quieter, amazed. His sensors flared out across the terrain before him, picking up the rock content, the temperature. His processor was practically buzzing with new data. "So humans benefit from it, how exactly? You don't photosynthesis like plants," he stumbled over the pronunciation of the word.

"No, animal life doesn't," she grinned and patted his dashboard. "Humans need sunlight for psychological health. As a species, we become depressed, many to the point of suicide, if we're without sunlight for an extended period of time. It's also necessary for the production of some components we need to remain healthy."

Again, the mech hummed quietly to himself. After a moment or two of silence, he answered. "Thank you, Captain. This is fascinating. In the past I'd spend dec-weeks tracking wanted mechs. I would sometimes find myself so immersed in my work, that I'd miss what was around me."

The mech sighed. "It is something I have regretted, and now I have the chance to change that." He sent out another sensor scan, eying the sea with awe. "And all this liquid, Primus!"

"Earth is roughly two-thirds ocean," she smiled. "Everything living is based on it. No water, no life of any kind here. The flip side is that where you find water, you will find life."

Amunet would have laughed at his expression if he were in bipedal form. "You probably getting sick of hearing this, but whoa!"

Chuckling, the mech loosen the seat-belt to be more comfortable. "How long until our destination, Captain?"

"It's right ahead," she grinned. "The edge of the sand is as far as we can go on this side of the atoll. Some of the mechs can drive across, but I don't think you're one of them."

"Ah," he said. "This model was not built for off-roading, no," he laughed, making the inside of the car vibrate. Pulling up, he waited patiently for Amunet to release her belt. His engine died and he opened his door for her. "Ladies first."

She chuckled and slipped out with the grace of a natural dancer, or well-trained warrior. "How many worlds have you been to?"

The Pagani rolled back and began to fold upwards until a familiar black mech stood there, smiling down at her with bright optics. "Quite a few, I'm far older than this snazzy frame makes me look," he teased.

Growing more serious, he straightened. "I have been on a similar one to this, but it was all jungle."

"An entire world with only one ecosystem?" Amunet cocked her head. "Was it artificial? The parameters required to produce such a thing naturally..." her voice drifted off as she tried to calculate odds beyond her brain's ability to work out. "It's very much not natural."

He regarded her with pleasant surprise. "Yes, to a point. The planet was young, the land mass still one big continent," he delved into the internet to find the correct wording, the urge to delve into Cybertronian was almost too tempting.

"The time I was there, I came across what looked like some kind of generator. Massive, never seen anything like it. It gave out some kind of energy reading I had trouble translating," he rotated his shoulder plates idly as they walked along the sand by shallow, warm water.

"Whilst hunting for the fugitive I was tasked with, I found out that that generator penetrated right into the core of the planet itself. Somehow," he lifted his servos in emphasis. "The creators of that generator had managed to freeze the environments development into some sort of stasis lock. For what reason I never found out, I guessed it was for study or some sort of biological experiment."

"Fascinating," she murmured, still trying to wrap her brain around how it could happen before shuffling it off into the ever-growing 'worry about later' list in her mind. "So if you aren't planning to hunt anymore, what are you going to do?"

The mech turned his helm to look off down the coast. "Offer my guns in return for some vengeance against the Decepticons.

"I lost a lot of friends back there," he glanced back and smiled at the dark skinned human. "I may not be a freelance bounty hunter anymore, doesn't mean I won't be hunting somebot. It's in my spark. I'm going to hunt Decepticons this time."

He leaned down. "Now, enough about this old mech. May I ask you some things, Captain? Whilst we begin the tour?" he couldn't hide his excitement of something new.

"Feel free to ask," Amunet smiled warmly at him. "I'll answer as best I can. But you are not done talking about yourself," she warned him playfully.

Grinning with triumph the mech nodded. "Alright, but for now...How did you come to be on the base? You're of this planet's military ... the Army?"

"Officially, NEST determined that my record indicated I have a reasonable chance of surviving," she chuckled a bit darkly and looked out across the brilliant blue water. "Unofficially, I think my last CO got sick of dealing with me and hoped that NEST would either like me or get me killed before I tried to transfer out. Earth doesn't have a united government yet, or world military. NEST is as close as we come to the later. I'm in the United States Army, one of the strongest militaries on Earth."

Trigger watched her curiously, slowly coming to rest his aft in the sand. He'd regret it later probably, but for now, he was more interested in hearing this female speak some more.

"Why would any CO want to part with a perfectly good soldier? Have they got their processor installed up their aft or something?"

Amunet howled in laughter and dropped to sit on the sand next to him with a wide grin on her lovely features. "You could say that. A lot of human military men still don't think women should be in the military, never mind combat positions. I'm a sniper, among other things, but to my COs, I'm a pain in the ass independent headache that's too good to court marshal and too much trouble to deal with. I've had a couple good ones, former special ops guys, that understand the best use for people like me is to give a mission objective and don't ask many questions when I get back, but they're too few for my good record."

Trigger growled, the sound originating somewhere deep in his chassis, menacing and completely hostile. "Anybot or organic who denounces a femme warrior should be put in stasis. There were plenty of femme who held their weight in battle, some better than their mech commanders." His shoulder plates tensed, the muscle cables creaking lightly under the strain. "I agree with you. When you have your target or orders, that it's your main objective above all else."

"Yap, but you'll find sexism, and racism, is still heavily ingrained in many human societies, from the most primitive to the most modern," she shrugged. "I grew up in a very egalitarian family, raised to be what I want to be. That it's effort, not gender or race, that makes the difference."

He cranked his helm to one side to rid himself of the build up of fluid in his lines. "I apologies for my temper. I do not abide by this..." he searched the word. "...sexism."

"Fortunately both Prime and Major Lennox are the good kind of CO," she smiled and shifted closer to him, enjoying the company. Even with the interest in claiming sockets making the mechs on base much more social, there had been very few that appealed to her.

The mech forced himself to calm down, the need to turn on his cooling fans was growing more urgent. The soft tone of the female's voice allowed him to calm his nerves, until he could look down at her with a warm smile.

"That is the belief I share as well, to earn your way and respect on the battle-field, or in life generally, you must make the best of yourself," he found that she'd moved closer, and found his smile widening. His processor ran through several flitting scenarios as he took in her dark skin and beautiful braid hair. The cooling fans almost overrode his control.

"You enjoy the company of mechs on the base then?" he tried, optics flitting back to her neck and away. He controlled himself and looked down at her amicably. "I do not mean to pry of course."

Amunet chuckled and reached out to pat his leg, the part closest to her. "Yes, I like to indulge a few of the mechs here. Being a new arrival and alone, I'm going to hazard a guess that you haven't had an organic boost in a while."

Yellow optics gleamed. "Hah, not so subtle am I. Yes it has been quite a while since my last boost. Hatchet said that I'd need soon, but was stable for now."

"You weren't too bad," she grinned up at him. "I've been around here long enough to know the drill. Anybody who arrives without a socket is going to need some attention soon."

He gently reached out a finger and stroked her shoulder and upper arm with a ghostly light touch. This female was certainly something; she'd had fire in her. His spark thudded in its chamber the thoughts that ran through his processor.

He cringed. _Since when did I become lecherous like old crank in'Hide?_

She leaned into the touch willingly and rumbled softly. "You've downloaded the 'how to pleasure a human' datapack?"

Chuckling, the black mech took his finger and ran it slowly down her spine and up again tantalizingly close to her socket, leaning in close he watched her expression with smoldering optics. "It's part of the medical debrief, and I am intrigued by some of its content."

"Oh?" she pressed into the warm finger, shifting so it rubbed her just so. "What parts?" she met his gaze with open arousal and dialed eyes.

He vented warm air softly over her, settling himself so he face her properly. "Why must your kind wear so much clothing?" he said seemingly innocent, but the smirk on his face plates said otherwise. For emphasis he tugged a little at her shirt sleeve, finger hot against her skin.

"A culture that discourages being comfortable with one's body." She said seriously, then with a laugh Amunet pulled her t-shirt off, leaving her still legally covered in a sports bra and shorts. "If you want to play now, open a hand. I am not getting sand where it doesn't belong."

Laughing, the mech took his finger away and came back with a servo for her instead. "I won't argue with that."

Bringing his servo before him, Trigger gently brushed Amunet's braids to one side of her neck. His finger probed the socket carefully judging her reaction before he would release his cable.

A low moan and spike in her mating pheromones answered his attention, and she eagerly shed her sports bra before grabbing the cable to plug it in as she climbed on his servo. "I'm not new to this," she promised him as she shimmied out of her shorts and underwear with no apparent care for being out in the open. With a shiver of anticipation she relaxed back, caressing the tiny plates and cables that comprised the complex construction of his hand while she spread her legs and let her feet fall to each side of his wrist.

A rumble of the mech's engine sounded as that delicious connection was made. Too long, he determined, far too long. Almost on instinct he released several thinner cables to coiled up her opened legs and greet her awaiting flesh. Another pair snaked out of the gaps in his servo plating and kneaded her dark nipples.

"Then I will not dither," he growled, relishing the sensation of her fingers on his more sensitive wiring. The cables between her legs took charge, one remaining to toy with her clit, the other deliberately delving slowly inside of her.

A finger came from behind and stroked her socket, sending out a short burst of his EM field.

Amunet moaned, arching and pressing into the contact, her sex slick and body already keyed up, excited by memories of what was coming.

"Oh yes," she gasped and reached above her to grab and stroke the fingers there, digging her fingers into the tiny spaces she found to press against fine cables and wires. "Mmm, what ... gives more energy ... building pleasure or ... the ... orgasm?" she asked between gasps.

The flow of memories and the sheer blinding excitement coming off of the female was staggering. He felt his spark begin to pulse. But with a loud grumble of arousal, the dark mech leaned back against a palm tree to steady himself. Those fingers got in everywhere!

"Your pleasure is doing wonders at the moment," his tone was deep and husky, another pulse of his EM field wash out over her. His cable plunged in deeper, the soft yet wet cavern yielding beautifully to his administrations.

"Primus knows what the your orgasm will cause," he tried to laugh, but his processor was beginning to thrum and his spark was far too preoccupied with guzzling its fill.

"Then draw it out, hansom," she moaned, rocking her hips into in the contact while her body squeezed the cable inside her and her fingers probed and rubbed and braced her upward arching body as she pressed her breasts into the rubbing, fondling touches. "Tell me ... tell me what turns you on ... till you can't think," she demanded between whimpers and moans.

His frame shuddered at the tone in her voice, so authoritive. He slowly withdrew the cable from inside her and flicked it up to his awaiting glossa. The taste was salty sweet and made his engine revv again, hard.

Her thoughts turn even more lewd and he gasped. "That, whatever that was," he gripped his other servo to prevent himself from crushing her. Through the connection, he sent a wave of his feelings, everything. Just how he liked is cables to be rubbed, particularly the one on his upper wrist. Pinching and long, tight thrusts. He groaned at the thought.

Without hesitation she did exactly that anywhere she could reach and brought surprisingly nimble toes into play on his wrist and just below it.

"L-Like that, Amunet," he uttered with hot breath.

The retracted cable danced back to the flushed, dark bronze body and snaked around from her sensitive socket to her hips. Again he shuddered.

"You like it when I talk?" she rumbled, undulating her body as enticingly as she could for him. "When I make demands?"

He let out a growl of pleasure as she hit the spot on his wrist, her toes digging in just right.

"Yes" Trigger sighed, unashamed of what he was admitting. The sight of her stretched out like that caused his spike to pulse behind its paneling. His optics shuddered. "Primus, yes."

With a rumbling groan of raw arousal that came from inside she repeated her assault on his wrist cables. "Would you like it if I told you what to do, just how to stroke yourself, how to submit to another mech?"

Despite the words, there was little hit of it being a question. Much more of a demand that it be something he enjoyed.

Trigger's optics onlined again, half shuttered with a near overload, but he was plenty coherent.

"As long as the other mech is willing, I am your guy," he whispered, cables returning to her sex and plunging inside.

She shuddered at the renewed attention and did her best to return it. "Open your panel," she demanded, her voice deep and husky with desire. Across the connection he felt the full impact of how much she _wanted_ this, to see him as a lover would.

He hissed through his vents at the strength of her emotion, his spike all but bursting from its housing. With a click, the paneling retracted and the spike emerged, already slightly wet at the tip.

He snapped his optics wide, yearning for more.

"Delicious," she panted, arching and writhing on his hand as her body tightened around his invading cable, trying to milk it as she would a human lover. "Finger yourself, Trigger. What you do to me, do to yourself."

With his free servo the mech used his digits to feel around his valve. Touch sensor node after node, he whined. The sensation was causing his spark to pulse again. He slipped two fingers a little deeper and swept around, before bringing them out with another low groan.

He flooded everything he was feeling through the link, his spark drowning in the intense sensations of everything.

"Yes, that's it," Amunet gasped. "Do well and I'll tend to your spike," she promised with every bit of sultry enticement she could manage with her body pushing closer to it's own release with every movement she made.

Trigger watched her momentarily through half shuttered optics as his digits delved in as deep as they could go and back. He controlled the urge to buck, a rumbling groan sounding as his cooling fans started up.

"Sounds like a plan," he grinned weakly before another wave of building heat caught him.

The cables round her nipples slowed, lavishing the buds, his cables continuing on their assault inside her. It was all too much for her. With a grunting cry she came hard, her body curling upwards as muscles tightened. Her fingers dug in deep and her body fluttered around the cable inside her, trying to reward her lover for such pleasure.

The surge of the female's orgasm sent the mech crashing into overload, his optics off lining as his whole frame froze. With one final thrust of his fingers, a primal growl tore from his vocals and he sent everything flooding right back into her like a tidal wave.

She arched with a garbled roar as a second orgasm hit before the first had even fully played out, her body quivering as she whimpered between gasps at the intensity as it began to settle.

Trigger lay motionless for a few minutes, his processor slowly coming down from it energy drunken state. Optics flickered online, registering static to begin with before clearing.

"Frag," he grumbled in bliss, feeling the twinge within his still pressurized spike. He smirked slightly at it before his optics turned to the quivering female, his smirk softening ever so slightly.

She smiled lazily up at him, the sun soaking into her dark skin and warming her as much as the hand under her.

"Nice to see it's still interested," Amunet purred with a hungry smile as she began to sit up, careful of her still-questionable balance. "Do you have any favorites for how to get your spike off?"

He grinned at the question. "Hands on is always good," he transmitted a few images for her, firm prolonged pressure before the burst. "But, I'm good with whatever is going," he tilted his head to the side slightly and watched as she got to her feet and walked up to him, standing between his spread legs with nothing but desire for the body she was looking at.

"I think I can manage that," she grinned and wrapped her hands firmly around the base of the spike as long as her arm and a bit thicker. Using her full body to add to the motion, she pushed upwards and flicked her tongue across the slit at the tip before shifting her grip to use her chest and breasts to press against one side while her hands focused on the other.

The servo she'd once been in clenched shut with a snap. A low rumble grew from beneath her as the mech began to react to her attentions. His smoldering golden optics goaded her on, whilst his other servo clench into the tree he leaned on to steady himself.

He groaned, his spike beginning to slicken at the slit. The feeling of not only her hands, but her _body_ along his length was getting his spark pumping again. An EM field flitted out from him as he lost control of it momentarily, ghosting over her.

"That feels good," she murmured after giving the slit another lick and swept her hands along the head of his spike to slicken the rest of the shaft and her body rubbing against it. "You feel good."

Trigger growled as she rubbed against him again, cables yearning to feel her again. They danced like snakes from his clenched servo, but he held them at bay.

"Ah! K-Keep that...going. Feels, incredible," he groaned, his tone husky with arousal and need. His spike was now slick, the connection between them buzzing with his growing need to overload.

Amunet smiled and tightened her grip on his spike, kissing and nipping along the length as she used her strong legs to move faster. "Let go, hansom. I want to see you lose it."

Yellow optics brightened, her words fueling that fire within his chassis and the delicious current in his lines. Something snapped, the cables coiled round her legs in an almost possessive hold as the mech bucked as gently as he could, luckily not unseating the strong female. The combination of her teeth and body sent him into a massive overload.

He let out a strangled roar as he came, his fluid gushing outward. A once coherent processor was left in a overpowering high as the connection was inundated again.

Amunet gave a strangled sound as his ecstasy roared through her body. She never gave a thought to the motion as she pushed against his spike, rocking her hips and spreading her own juices along it as she sought to push herself over the edge a third time while he was still fully lost in his.

This time he submerged himself in the bliss that followed his overload, knowing that the sweet buzz registering in his sluggish processor was Amunet. His cables gently retracted so that they stroked down her legs before returning to his wrist plating.

He sent a final EM field out to help her tip over the peak, his finger tracing down her spine.

She trembled and gasped for air, then eventually calmed between deep breaths and thoughtless snuggling against the spike still in her embrace, nuzzling and licking it randomly.

"That was very good," she murmured, her body lax as she gradually sank to her knees in the sand. "Very, very good."

Trigger rumbled his agreement, amused by the attention his spike was still getting. "Delicious even."

He stretched the doors on his arms, the muscle cables whining softly. Settling back down he offered a warm hand. "Want a seat, or do you like being covered in sand?" he teased with a lazy grin.

"A seat sounds good," she said, still mostly in dazed bliss as she struggled to her feet and climbed up to settle on his leg. "So does a bath."

Look down at himself, Trigger nodded his helm. "That sea water is sounding awfully nice right now. It is quite the ways back to the base."

"Agreed," she smiled, though she wasn't terribly inclined to move just yet. "And a nice long nap. Your spark all charged up now?"

He chuckled leaning back and basking in the warm sun. "Full to bursting, thank you. If you wish to recharge, feel free," he smiled and watched her through half shuttered optics. "My aft won't be moving from this spot for a while."

She gave a mumbled affirmative and closed her eyes, quite willing to sleep naked on the beach while sitting with her legs spread with the mech's upper leg armor between them and braced against his chest plates. 

Yellow optics brightened considerably at the prospect, such an environment suiting him just fine. "I look forward to the challenge."


	2. When Things Go Wrong

Trigger tried not to pace as he watched the NEST C-17 Galaxy slowly roll down the tarmac, bringing Autobot and human warriors back from a mission that while an emergency, seemed to be considered normal by the local population. Except for him it was surprisingly stressful because Amunet was among the humans going, and he wasn't among the mechs.

He wasn't alone in his stress either.

Mirage was there with his human, a friendly, spirited woman named Alicia, waiting to see Hound come off the transport. He didn't seem too stressed, but they're bonded, so he probably knows Hound's condition.

A blond woman with a young human sparkling in her arms - Sarah Lennox - she must be waiting for her mate and Ironhide. She didn't seem nearly as calm, though she was hiding it well from the other humans.

Ratchet was waiting for his prized apprentice, First Aid, and on the injured he knew would be there.

The salvage crew and their vehicles were there in force to collect the spoils they'd no doubt been told were on board.

And of course Prime, Jazz and Prowl were there to take stock of the mission results first hand.

"Who'ya waiting on?" Jazz's voice asked cheerfully from Trigger's left.

His processor was running unpleasant scenarios, making the wait all the more stressful. So when Jazz's voice cut through his brooding the Pagani looked up with a start. He smiled weakly over his shoulder at the silver mech. "Captain Mubarak."

Yellow optics darted to and fro but the hunter 'bot forced himself to remain still.

"She's a skilled hunter," Jazz nodded and walked up to stand next to him. "Does she know you're waiting for her?"

Trigger watched a group of the salvage crew scramble by. "I don't think so, haven't spoken to her since she left."

The silver mech nodded as the C-17 rolled to a stop, aft end towards them, and opened the cargo bay door. First Aid was the first visible, calling for Ratchet urgently even as Hound walked out carrying Bluestreak's battered, energon covered chassis.

One of the techs ran out from behind the trucks towards the CMO, fear and panic in her eyes. Trigger backed up a couple of paces to let the human by. He looked among all the humans coming out of the C-17 Globemaster, doors raising slightly in anticipation.

"She's not on board," Prowl's low, even voice startled them both.

"What?" Jazz whirled on his bonded, his entire frame going tense.

The large white mech with black and red markings didn't seem at all phased by the death threatened by the small silver frame. "The need to get Bluestreak here forced them to leave the outlying positions to regroup for a second pickup," Prowl said calmly. "You're cleared to go with the next flight."

Jazz nodded and settled a little, though he was still visibly agitated to Trigger's optics.

Trigger growled, tearing his optics from the silver mech with a hint of jealousy. His engine revving with resolve. "What's their situation? Are they in a secure position?"

The yelling of the distressed female technician wasn't helping his mood, but he distracted himself by pacing. He didn't like waiting, not when action was needed.

"Major Lennox would never leave anyone behind if they were in trouble," Prowl spoke with audible respect for the human commander as the organized chaos of unloading and getting injured mechs and humans to their respected medbays unfolded around them. "The transport would have brought only the injured if the battle was still underway."

"Yeah, Lennox is a good commander," Jazz added his support, though he was no more calm for it.

The black mech shook his helm, stilling in his pacing. "Have no doubt in the Major's ability. He helped hold off the 'Cons when I arrived. Amunet...the Captain also spoke highly of him." He growled again, but more quietly this time. "Just would have liked to have been there."

He followed the movement of the grey sniper, Ratchet barking commands to clear the runway. "Will the kid be alright?"

"Ratchet indicates Bluestreak's odds are good," Prowl answered calmly. "His spark is strong and his processors are all intact. The worst damage was to a sensor wing, but it should recover fully in time."

"Come on," Jazz said suddenly as he turned to stalk towards the transport.

Optics narrowing, but remaining silent the mech strode after Jazz. Dodging various humans, he boarded the plane. "You are close with the Captain, Lieutenant?" Trigger asked after settling against a far wall.

"Getting there," Jazz nodded as he positioned himself to balance the load and settled in for the ride. "It's a five hour flight, so get comfortable."

For a moment, the Pagani merely observed the silver mech before him. Slowly, he folded down and reclining back between two bulky cases strapped to the floor. "I see," he said simply, yellow optics half shuttered.

"You seem unusually attached for meeting her once," Jazz insisted on talking.

"What can I say, she caught my attention," he gave a lopsided smile, noting the edge in the conversation. "Like you said yourself, Lieutenant, she's a skilled hunter."

"Same as us," Jazz nodded, his expression going to a decidedly unnerving one of calculation as he took in every movement, every word and inflection of the other mech. "She is a spectacular socket. Worth fighting for."

Yellow optics narrowed as Trigger came to realize just what the First Lieutenant was doing. He was no fool; he knew a challenge when he sensed one. His doors urged to flare but he stood firm. "She is that and more, sir. I haven't come across a socket with her will and fire in all my travels."

"You can drop the sir, and the rank. I'm Jazz," he said almost cheerfully. "I may be Prime's First Lieutenant, but that's not going to be a factor here." He leaned forward seriously. "Who's best for Amunet is."

The rank had been holding his tongue in check, but now. Trigger watched the silver mech with growing irritation. So, he was competition and he growled. "You have to question that do you? I take it you have connected with her?" he regained his control, leaning forward to rest his arm on his knee joints. "You've also known her far longer than I."

"Yes, and I've been courting her for the better part of five lunar cycles," Jazz nodded, his tone serious and no-nonsense. "She's an exceptional sniper, a fine hunter, and as welcoming as I am in seeing to the mech's needs. Smart, lovely and tolerant of Prowl even. There aren't many like her around."

Despite his clenched face and dental plates, the Pagani felt the first fall of his spark. Five lunar cycles, and how long had he known her? Best part of three solar cycles. "Amunet is certainly one of a kind," he chuckled warmly. "Her knowledge and intensity warms the spark."

Yellow optics flickered up, and locked with Jazz's silver-blue visor. "You have had the fortune of her company for so long, and I admit I am insanely jealous. I have only had the pleasure of one blissful connection with her. This mission prevented any further interaction with her."

Jazz nodded slightly. "She very much enjoys feeding the new sparks that show up," he gave a fond smile. "I doubt that will change, even after she's claimed. Assuming she lets anyone claim her."

Trigger sighed. "She's certainly snagged control over my processors if that is the case. Not that I'm complaining." He frowned. "I don't understand. If you have courted her for so long then why hasn't she agreed to let you claim her? Of course it's her decision, but..." he trailed off, now wary of Jazz.

"Mostly Prowl," he shrugged, though he didn't hide that it had hurt. "Like me, she's more concerned with results than rules. She'd run afoul of him a few times before I got to her. She likes me well enough, but Prowl's part of the package."

"Your bonded, right?" the Pagani asked. "Amunet mentioned that she's not always got on with those who didn't just let her reach her target regardless." He didn't know why he was discussing this with Jazz, he was the opposition.

"Yes, we are," Jazz nodded, a warm smile crossing his features at the thought. "I know. The second time we met it was when she was ranting about him and some of her former COs," Jazz snickered. "She's remarkably creative when she's pissed."

The mech leaned back against the wall. "Can't say I've seen her angry, I imagine she can get quite animated. She's was certainly a force of nature when we met," he couldn't help the shudder that passed through his frame.

"Vengeful little creature too," Jazz grinned mischievously. "Calmed right down when I suggested she prank him for payback in true Autobot tradition. She's good too. Even impressed our resident Terror Twins."

Trigger sniggered at the thought of that. "Heh, must have been quite the prank to impress those two."

"It wasn't that special, it was more than she got one over on him," Jazz snickered. "He still hasn't found out who rearranged his office. If it wasn't for a being four months before planetfall, Raj would have been the top suspect. Caused Red to glitch though. That wasn't fun," he winced in memory of the security officer freaking out completely.

Remembering the Red Alert from his intensive debriefing, Trigger hissed sympathetically. "Not good."

"You have no idea," Jazz muttered. "You met him as sane and stable as he gets outside of Inferno's berth. Glitched ... well, he tends to shoot first at anything that he feels is a threat. Which is basically everything, moving or not. Took Ratch five joor to undo the damage I took taking him down without hurting him. Then he let Prowl give me the lecture about letting those with the training do the work."

Falling silent Trigger looked at him blankly. "All of this trying to say that I'm in way over my helm, Jazz?"

"Not really," he shook his head with a chuckle. "Though you might be, and you might enjoy it. That's on you, not my call. She's not one that'll ever be content to stay behind and she keeps up very well."

He shrugged and looked ahead. "That I gathered. I intend to try and stay on my feet as long as I can. She's worth it even if this mech's a little slow."

Jazz gave him a scrutinizing look. "That she is," he agreed. "I'm not going to give up on her either, until she tells me to back off."

Trigger grinned at back at Jazz's scrutinizing expression. "Then we agree on something."

"Then it's on," Jazz grinned back.

* * *

Landing at Kurnak Fort near Lake Pangong Tso on the Indian-China boarder was a fast, hard one, and both could hear the scramble of humans and two mechs outside before they'd even come to a stop.

His comm buzzed and suddenly Jazz was cursing fluently in a dozen languages. His visor flashed before he transformed, his engine revving. ::She didn't report in. You coming?::

The newly transformed mech pulled up beside him. ::Ready to move,:: his engine growled in response.

They roared past Kup and Springer and a dozen NEST soldiers, Jazz in the lead as he transmitted a local map and her last known coordinates to Trigger. Without a word Springer leapt into the air and transformed, his Cybertronian helicopter alt standing out in the sky briefly despite its muted matte green finish. Then he had the altitude to be little more than a dot to the humans below.

Uploading the data, Trigger started a systematic scan of the terrain they'd entered. Mountainous, barren and snow ridden. Following in Jazz's wake, the hunter 'bot skimmed through the locations near where Amunet had last radioed from.

::What type of opposition were they up against?:: it would determine where her and her team had moved to.

::One Con, Roadgrabber, and four drones. We got three drones, the other escaped with him,:: Springer answered. ::We did a thorough search of her LKL and found blood, the fourth drone, but no trail to follow.::

::Why would he take a prisoner?:: Jazz wondered out loud on the secure comm channel.

::He wouldn't.:: Springer said grimly.

::He must be wanting something,:: Trigger pushed his engine to the limit, wheels tearing at the ground. He dreaded the thoughts going through his processor.

::Why'd you send Hound back?:: Jazz demanded. ::He's the back tracker we have.::

::She wasn't missing when he left,:: Springer told him evenly. ::No one was nine point three joor ago. It wasn't until she didn't check in or arrive at the fort eight joor ago that we started to look..::

Trigger only half listened to the conversation, desperately running through scenarios and data. Why would Roadgrabber have taken her? There was no body to suggest otherwise. When they'd arrive at the location he could assess the 'Con's motives better but until then.

::Jazz,:: he pulled out to one side just behind the silver car, securing a channel to him. ::Let me try and help.::

::What have you got?:: he responded immediately, his tone welcoming the impute.

::There is no body to suggest that Amunet is dead. So Roadgrabber must have taken her for something. What would a 'Con need from a seemingly ordinary soldier?:: He fell back in line behind Jazz. ::Nothing, as Springer said. She's a socket. Where any of her teammates sockets? Who else has been reported missing?::

::Everyone in NEST is a socket,:: Jazz told him. ::Certainly all the field ops are. We lose them, but it's all KIAs and we find the bodies where they land. She almost always works alone, or with a spotter at most. She's a sniper. The only thing I can think of that makes her special is being a female and regularly out alone. I doubt she was targeted. An opportunistic grab possibly, and he might want her because she has a socket. I doubt he has any idea what he's got though.::

Trigger let out a sigh and felt relief filter through his system. ::I didn't realize _all_ of NEST were sockets,:: he answered. That left him wondering, if that wasn't it then why would he have taken a prisoner? ::And there haven't been any other Decepticons sighted nearby. That would rule out an ambush or a trap if so.::

Jazz suddenly fishtailed slightly. His engine snarled and sputtered in pure fury.

::None have been spotted recently at least,:: Jazz said, his tone darker than before as they sped through rough but open terrain.

The hunter bot had to push himself flat out to try and keep up with the irate mech.

_We better get there fast then_ he thought internally, his own engine beginning to growl in a low drone.

::What the Pit did Prowl tell you?:: Springer demanded at the sudden burst of speed.

::The odds of her being alive, broken down by what killed her,:: Jazz hissed. ::Two point three one six percent chance she makes it back to Diego Garcia.::

A blare of Trigger's engine found him almost on Jazz's bumper. ::I don't like those odds, why don't we try and increase them in her favor?::

::I hate those odds,:: Jazz agreed. ::We are going to prove him wrong this time,:: he insisted.

A sigh over the open comm was the only response Springer had. ::It's just up ahead, younglings.::

::Who are you calling a youngling?:: Jazz shot back.

::The two mechs acting like their first crush is a breem late,:: the triple changer chided him.

A dark chuckle sounded across Trigger's comm. ::Sounds about right. But we're not going to wait for her.::

::No one said that when I was courting Prowl,:: Jazz grumbled.

::As I recall, you weren't an Autobot yet and frankly all of Iacon was scared out of their processors by the thought you were on base,:: Springer chuckled with a dark kind of amusement as he landed and they all transformed.

Little bits of drone were scattered about, it's tracks, hers, blood and other organic material were scattered about.

"We assumed that Roadgrabber smashed the drone, since it was basically flattened when we got here," Springer explained. "It had a couple shots from her riffle in it too. It was missing with her body."

Careful were he stood, Trigger look about scanning the area thoroughly. "No signals from the drones or him at all then." His optics narrowed. "No sign of his tracks either?" he growled, doors flaring as he walked carefully through the site.

"Not that we found," Springer watched in fascination as the purpose-built hunter and a living legend went to work with sensor sets and knowledge that he couldn't hope to match.

Trigger came upon a piece of drone debris, and his sensors hit tracking gold. The surface was dried, and there was barely enough for a sample but the mech knelt down anyway. One of his servos transformed and a syringe looking tool dug into the dried liquid. He still for a moment, his sensors coming alive as her blood was analyzed.

Standing up the mech turned and re-scanned the area, scouting round the edge of the site. With the sample he now possessed, he could recalibrate his sensors. A few minutes passed, him wandering further and further away. His scanner was going haywire, his whole processor now locked into predator mode.

He paused by the base of a barren hill, yellow optics narrowing into slits. They zoomed in ... so faint, oh so very faint. But there ... tracks. He frowned, his spark pulsing. But not the kind of tracks he'd expected.

They were the size Ironhide would leave and even further apart, but they weren't anything like what a mech would create.

Stepping back the Pagani took in what he was seeing, his processor filtering through species to try and find a match, with no success. Growling, he transformed swiftly and swerved round the track. He began trying to find matches to the track in the area, his sensors having to strain to find them.

No wonder no one else had. A drop of blood here, a faint track there. It was enough, by dusk, to lead him to a cave opening that looked to have been very recently clawed much larger than it had been. Now it was large enough for something Ironhide's size to easily crawl into, and he could almost walk upright into the pitch black interior.

"Oh boy," he uttered. His left servo bent and pulled back until a weapon similar to a shotgun emerged. He scanned as far in as he could, and yes the tracks lead in there all right. "Now I wish I were a little taller," he mumbled to himself as he proceeded inside the cave, optics dimming.

There was a faint grunt, then the scrabbling of large claws against stone moved away from him, going further into the cave.

Optics narrowing, the mech pushed himself closer to the stone. He retracted his sensors for a moment, till the sound was almost inaudible before sending them out before him as he crept closer.

_What in the Matrix is going on?_ his thoughts churned as he ventured in silently.

His IR sensors picked up a very large shape huddled in the back of the cavern. It wasn't warm enough to be a normal mammal, but then it was too large to be a normal anything.

Cautiously the mech slinked into the area, yellow optics darting over the being with a mixture of curiosity and alarm. He kept his weapon low, knowing his size meant his chances against the creature were probably quite slim.

The data collected from the blood sample was indicating that its source was right before him. His spark thudded, he must be malfunctioning.

Suddenly something wrapped both his legs and yanked him towards the beast hard. By the time the world stopped vibrating, he was optic to eye with the creature, its golden slit-iris eyes dilated wide.

"Trigger?" its voice gurgled as its head cocked to one side.

Alarms and warning were ignored as he re-focused on what he was seeing. That voice, he knew that voice. Yellow optics brightened, though his processors where still lagging behind a bit. "That's me...Amunet?"

The large, crocodile-like head nodded as large, clawed hands pulled him close, right against scailed, chilled flesh. A thick tail and fairly long neck curled around him, every inch of her body too cold.

Another sensor sweep and he was picking up injuries from claws, bites and burns along with suppressed life signs of heart and breath.

He reached out a servo and pressed it gently her scales. To say he was stunned was an understatement. But the readings he'd received were too demanding for him to stumble over his own shock.

"What happened?" he asked, wondering how in Primus's name he was going to get her medical attention.

"Drone attacked me," she shivered, her body soaking up his warmth as effectively as a heat sink. "Killed it. It hurt me too bad to change back before Springer came. Had to hide."

Carefully he revved his engine, trying to produce more heat for her. His spark lunged in its chamber as he realized just how dwarfed he was by her new ... form. But he tried his best to ignored it for now. "You're badly damage, you need medical attention."

The head against his side shook sharply in denial. "Need time. Meat useful. Heat better. Forty-eight hours and I can look human."

"Meat? That could be a problem ... but heat, that I can do," he grinned slightly.

"Heat's good," she rumbled, vibrating all around him. "Very good."

He remained still for Amunet while she fell into recharge, his spark pulsing happily in its chamber in an effort to provide more heat for her. He felt the urge to recharge seeping in, but ignored it. He was far more content being in Amunet's company and supplying the extra warmth she needed so badly.

* * *

Increasingly insistent comm pings from Jazz, Springer and even Kup eventually worked him into answering one of them, though he was still almost cocooned by Amunet's gradually warming body.

Pulling himself from his daze the Pagani felt his fuel lines cool slightly. Jazz.

::Trigger here,:: he transmitted as calmly as he could, but he knew this was the last peace he'd hear for a while. And it was his fault for not answering earlier. He readied himself, well, as best he could.

::Where the **_Pit_** are you?:: Jazz actually snarled. ::Do you have any idea how many times you've been pinged in the last _four joor_?::

_Awh slag_ he thought before he smoothed his servo along a few scales and felt a more selfish side of him whisper, _It was worth it though._

It occurred to him as his co-ordinates popped up ready to transmit. Did Jazz even know? He watched the sleeping female and found realization begin to trickle in. He had _no_ idea. Either transmit his location and risk exposing Amunet - if she hadn't told - or not and lie and bide the female time to transform safely. _And risk his COs infamous wrath._

He rested his fore-helm on Amunet's scales and vented. ::I'm still searching sir, I've must have been too preoccupied.::

::Where are you?:: Jazz demanded again, his voice much smoother but far more angry now. ::Coordinates. Now.::

He groaned quietly to himself, wondering how the Pit he was going to persuade Jazz of all bots. He racked his processor and decided that being damaged wouldn't explain it. He tried again. ::Sir, my navigation is malfunctioning. I've tried to repair it but there seems to interference from my surroundings...essentially...:: he vented across the line ::...I'm lost.::

It burnt his pride to say that, he, a hunter bot ... _lost_? Grumbling, he shuttered his optics, leaning into Amunet's scales.

::Oh good grief,:: Jazz grumbled. ::Can you see the sky?::

The mech stalled for a moment then, unprepared for the question. If he said no, it'd imply he was underground, they'd all surely find him and his sleeping friend. He fought, his processor whirring with possible scenarios. He clawed at his faceplates when he realized the dead end he was in.

Mournfully he traced a scale before uttering an apology to the sleeping female.

Focusing, he singled out Jazz's signal ... and transmitted an image. ::Please sir, come alone.::

There was an agonizingly long pause. ::All right,:: Jazz responded, his voice low and even, all the anger bled from it.

The sigh he vented was complete and utter defeat, his optics dimmed. He spent the time calculating how long Jazz would be and just how to make this not quite so ugly when he arrived. He could only hope that she'd told him already.

::You're in the cave?:: Jazz's cautious, heavily encrypted and shielded transmission brought him out of his thoughts two and a half breems later.

Looking up, the mech answered. ::Yeah. Just follow it all the way in.::

With Jazz's first steps inside, Amunet stirred uneasily as she pulled herself out of deep sleep at the silver mech's approach. Trigger lay still, ready to gently detangle himself when necessary. Audios picked up on Jazz's footfalls as he drew closer, his spark pulsing in anticipation.

A low, rumbling growl, the sound of a powerful predator warning off a perceived threat, erupted all around him as she began to move, uncurling and stepping forward to place her own badly battered body between him and the intruder.

::Who, and what, was cuddling you?:: Jazz asked with a bit of amusement as he froze.

::I'm not sure what she is but, it's Amunet, Jazz.:: Arms rotating as he stretched, the mech spoke carefully. He knew that she'd wake up soon enough when she realized what he'd done. "Amunet, it's alright ... it's just Jazz."

She froze, swaying slightly.

"Ah crud," a low hiss escaped her and she dropped back down, her long tail snaking back to pull Trigger against her again.

"Okay, Trigger, let's hear your side of this first," Jazz ordered.

Steadying himself, Trigger turned his helm to look at Jazz. "I found traces of her blood on a drone, helped me recalibrate my sensors. That allowed me to pinpoint her tracks that led here. She needed heat, to return to her original form. That I could provide. Amunet didn't want anyone to see her yet."

A low grumble from the organic he was pressed against greeted that statement.

Jazz nodded and focused on the crocodile eyes looking at him from the strangest mix-matching of parts he'd seen in a long time.

"So, Amunet ... why hide? I know you're aware of just how many races we've been in contact with," he said gently.

She grumbled again. "Because it's not my choice to make, no more than it's Trigger's to out your kind to humanity in general."

Trigger looked between the pair, feeling the guilt for ratting her out. But he remained silent for the time being, revving his engine slightly to provide more heat.

"I'm down with that," Jazz nodded and moved a bit closer before sitting on the cavern floor. "I'm not even going to punish Trigger for trying to avoid letting me know. How long before you're good to go back to base?"

"Couple days, maybe less with both of your heat," she answered quietly. "The drone hurt me pretty bad before I crushed it."

Trigger smiled. "You can stall Springer and the others that long, right Jazz?"

"Not that they'll be happy about it, but yeah, I can do that," he nodded and opened a comm line to Springer and Kup. It took him over a full klik before he was satisfied that they'd leave and send the transport back to pick them up in forty joor. "So 'sides heat, you need anything else?"

"Meat'd be good," she answered.

Jazz nodded. "A small yak?"

"If you can," she actually sounded eager now. "You can?"

Jazz chuckled and stood with his usual casual grace. "If I can't hunt up a half-domesticated animal where they're native, I need to hand in my SpecOps card."

Thankful for the Saboteur's knowledge of the area, Trigger leaned forward gently into the Amunet. "Glad you know your stuff, Jazz. I've still got a lot to learn about this planet."

"I'll be back with fresh meat," Jazz promised, giving a slight smile at the sight and slipped outside.

"That ... went better than I expected," she murmured.

"He certainly wasn't happy at first, worried for you," he chuckled. "But yes, it has gone well. How are you feeling?" he was tempted to scan her, to check, but he'd rather hear her speak.

"Besides mangled, cold and hungry? Just peachy," she sort of chuckled. "Time'll fix the first, you're helping the second and Jazz'll fix the third. You still haven't asked me what I am."

Trigger's expression was sheepish. "You kind of fell asleep before I could. Well, what exactly are you, Amunet?"

"Oh," she snuggled around him again, enveloping as much of his chassis as she could with her own bulk, though her head remained facing the cavern entrance. "I'm of the oldest people of Earth, the Mokolé. These days we're call were-alligators, but we are the Dragons, the Clutch of the Kings."

Fascinated, the mech gently stroked an armored scale. "Dragons?" he tried to access the internet as best he could. "Incredible, you're kind have become legend. How have you managed to keep hidden for so long?"

"We don't change in front of humans," she said like it was obvious. "I fooled _Jazz and Prowl_ for five months sharing their berth and courting. That and humans rarely see what they aren't looking for. Like yourselves," she turned her head to nuzzle his shoulder gently. "Hiding in plain sight is very effective, really."

His engine purred in response. "Yes. Many do not expect something so obvious."

"Have you encountered shapeshifters before?" she asked in the silence that followed.

He was thoughtful, flickering through his older memory files. "Races with similar attributes, yes, but nothing like quite like you, Amunet. Closest would be Wraiths," he decided. "Creatures that would project an image from their prey's mind to come across as less threatening. It would allow them to hunt and capture prey more easily."

"Useful trick," she murmured. "Do you understand why I, my kind, hide?"

He looked up at her. "Have you been hunted?"

"Hunted and slaughtered," she said quietly, the pain still an open, jagged wound no matter how old it was. "We were feared, rightfully so, and many lashed out in that fear and jealously."

"And this is still going on?" Trigger's optics dimmed at her painful expression. He wanted nothing more than to soothe her, tell her it would be all right.

"When they find us, only one side, if either, ever leave," Amunet let a hissing sigh escape, her eyes closing though she wasn't settling in to sleep. "I'm sure you can work out how much damage this form can do before going down."

"By the way the entrance was expanded, then yes, I'd say you'd pack quite the punch," his humor was lost, even on himself. "Who are these enemies of yours? I don't think humans would pose much of a threat to you? Are they shapeshifters like yourself?"

Amunet chuckled without humor, her body vibrating around his. "Humans would too, but it's the Garou, the werewolves, that did most of the damage. They declared war on the rest of us, on all the other shifting breeds, old and young. It came so fast they had done much damage before anyone realized it was an organized effort. Many fought back, but by then, it was too late to do much more than hide and convince them we were gone. They think we are no more, and it must stay that way."

Trigger listened intently. "I'm sure that it can, Jazz will find a way. And who exactly am I going to tell? Though, trying to explain all this might be difficult."

"We survived the War of Rage and the millennia since by telling no one," she said insistently. "Not even Prime. As for what to say, it's likely Jazz's call, but I have a lot of experience explaining why folks couldn't find me."

"Jazz wasn't kidding when he said you were a good hunter, add survivor to that too," he thought out loud, but more to himself.

The low rumble of a nearly sub-voc chuckle greeted the statement. "Snipers have to be, and that's all he knew me as. I think he saw a little of his old self in me too, but I never was sure." She sighed. "Prowl is going to be a problem, though."

The mention of the security mech had Trigger cringing. "Ah, yeah, Jazz's bonded."

"Which means if he doesn't know now, he will soon," she murmured, her mind going as fast as it could for options. "There is a very strong possibility I'll have to disappear again."

Trigger growled lightly. "When? I know Jazz might not be able to keep it from him, but-" he trailed off, growing frustrated by the predicament. He vented. "You can't let yourself be found out by too many 'bots or organics, of course."

"It should be _none_ ," she grumbled. "I _should_ have torn your spark out when I had the opening and hidden what was left where it wouldn't be found. Now ... I have to find out what Jazz plans."

Trigger lapsed into silence, her words, though entirely logical, burned him for some unknown reason. He stilled, optics watching the cavern tunnel, as he was sure Amunet was too.

It was an eternity, in the form of eleven breems, before his sensors picked up the approach of another mech. The quiet ping of his comm with Jazz's ID confirmed who it was.

"He's back," he uttered, looking expectantly at the entrance. He could sense the creature that Jazz had captured, its blood still warm despite its death.

"I can smell it," she rumbled, struggling to her feet, all four of them, and made two lumbering, shaky steps towards the entrance before Jazz darted inside, his silver finish tainted by a few small trails of blood from the body he carried.

"Hay, hay, settle down. Dinner's comin," he promised.

Trigger processor flashed with warnings, his current position was not the best place to be when a predator wanted its meal. But he couldn't do much but wait. "Didn't take you long."

"Like I said," he tossed his kill down near Amunet's jaws and shifted so he could motion Trigger to edge towards him and clear of her jaws. "Easy kill. Reimbursement in this area's easy too."

Carefully, the mech shifted as best he could towards the silver mech. With a gentle push, the mech freed himself and backed away to give Amunet and her meal space. The crunch of long, thick, razor-sharp teeth threw flesh and bone with equal ease was an uneasy reminder of the power in this form. So was the way the four hundred pound animal disappeared down her throat without being torn apart. Crushed, but swallowed hole.

"Thank you," Amunet looked up at Jazz before settling down again near the back of the cave. "Snuggle? I need the warmth."

Trigger had watched the display with fascination, his processor remaining him however of how dangerous this creature could be. Now he glanced at Jazz and chuckled. "After you, Jazz. I've had the pleasure of her company for joors now," he spoke without a hint of malice.

The silver mech gave him a crooked grin and laid down next to her, pressing his back against her flank and revving his engine a bit to generate a bit of extra warmth. It wasn't a move lost of either of the others that he'd just put himself first in the line of fire should anything come in.

Despite their earlier dispute, Trigger felt a growing respect toward Jazz. If Amunet chose the silver mech, he'd not hold it against Jazz. He smirked a little to himself, that didn't stop the competition of course. Shaking such thoughts from his processor, he lowered himself down beside the female. Dimming his optics, he charged his spark, leaned into her scales and joined Jazz in gently revving his engine.

It was going to be a long, tense orn while she recovered enough to return. Even longer ones until he found out just how many would learn about her actual race and if it was too many for her to accept.


	3. Rules of Life

"Yar injuries 're almost healed," Jazz sounded absolutely stunned. "Ya were near dead two days ago."

"This form heals fast," Amunet responded with a yawn that showed off six and eight-inch teeth set in a jaw that was half crocodile and half T-Rex. "It's why I had to stay in it. I'll still be hurt as a human, but it'll be safe enough for me to travel and be cared for by doctors."

Over the last forty hours with little else to do, both mechs had cautiously explored the body they were providing warmth for. Over forty feet long, a third of that a thick, prehensile tail, and weighing as much as Jazz.

Jazz was the first to work out that she was actually a biped, though built more like a running bird than a human. Trigger noticed the webbing on her hind feet and the flattened spines with webbing running down the top of her tail.

Overall, it was a strange picture that weren't sure would be any more obvious in full light.

"How long before you'd heal completely if you remained like this?" Jazz cocked his head, quite willing to remain where he was, trapped under one large forearm and pressed close to her wide chest.

"Mmm, with meat and warmth, five or six days in all," she decided. "The drone really did do a lot of damage."

Trigger turned his helm from his place and cocked a optical ridge, "Can we stall that long?"

Jazz gave it a serious thought, but Amunet beat him to it.

"I'll heal much faster in the tropics. Diego Garcia is better for me. I should be healthy enough that they don't keep me in medbay, so I can sneak out and rest in this form. It'll be a couple weeks, but still much faster than a human."

"That is the easier choice," Jazz agreed. "Being gone a week under these conditions will cause a lot of questions, even for me."

A small amount of relief came over the black mech, pleased with that at least. He wasn't good with handling overly suspicious superiors. He was used to working on his own, given the mission - get in, kill, get out. Simple.

Grumbling quietly, he leaned his helm back onto Amunet's scales, "The island will have enough cover at least, and meat shouldn't be a problem. If you like crab," he grinned, but dropped the joke at the seriousness on Jazz's faceplates, "Okay, no crab."

"Don't worry, I can handle my needs by the time we get back," she assured them both. "Without breaking any laws or regs. The most critical of the damage will have healed by then."

"You know Prime is going to have to hear of this," Jazz said quietly.

Amunet let out a gusty sigh. "I figured as much. I'm sure Prowl already knows."

"He does," Jazz nodded slightly. "On the plus side, with the three top officers in on it, covering for any events will be easier."

"At least that way things will run much smoother for you getting in and out of the base," Trigger looked at Amunet as he spoke.

She nodded slightly, but looked at Jazz. "Prime's going to want a better explanation than I've given you, I expect."

"Probably," he admitted. "I'll see how much I can get him to accept without grilling you, but yeah, he'll probably want to talk to you. About the war if nothing else. He's kinda protective of his charges, you know."

She giggled, a very strange sound coming from half-beast vocal chords. "I've noticed. He's in an unenviable position, trying to make a home on a world where he knows maybe a tenth of the actual situation, but being led to believe he knows most of it."

"There's that too," Jazz nodded. "Do you think you can shift soon?"

A slightly resigned sound escapede her. "Any time, really. As long as I get a ride to the transport."

Optics shifting to the entrance of the cavern, Trigger felt his doors shift slightly with anticipation of transforming. "I'm more than happy to take you, but it's up to you."

"The story will go better if Trigger takes you," Jazz suggested, intentionally giving his rival an opening.

"That works for me," Amunet agreed and shifted, untangling her tail from Trigger's frame and her arms from Jazz before stepping back and willing her form to melt and twist into the familiar human one.

"Oh man," Jazz groaned. "Do me a favor, _never_ shift in front of Prowl, 'k? The orn after a processor lock is a bitch."

"Urr, okay," she gave him a bit of an odd look, but was soon far too focused on the tattered remains of her cold weather uniform and how it wasn't helping much to worry about it. "I hope you have a heater," she shivered, looking directly at Trigger.

The Pagani bounced on its shocks as Trigger finished his transformation, his driver door popping open. His heaters were on max, his seats warm. "Why not come in and find out?"

She smiled warmly at him and happily climbed in. A low, wanton moan escapede her as warmth envelopede her from all sides.

::Let's go,:: Jazz transmitted as he transformed. ::The transport will land in half a joor.::

His engine revved in response to both the happy female in his seat and his CO. ::Right behind you, Jazz:.:

The trip, partly over unbroken terrain and partly on dirt roads, went both fast and slow for him. It felt wonderful to have Amunet curled on his seat, all but radiating contentment, but it was stressful knowing just how injured she still was. She really had given herself only enough time to become a walking wounded.

The C-17 was waiting for them on the tarmac of Kurnak Fort, ramp down, and Jazz didn't hesitate to drive inside. Not far behind, Trigger carefully mounted the ramp and drove up after the silver mech.

"Here we go," his usually cheery voice was quieter with worry. He stopped to Jazz's right and turned off his engine.

"Out with you," Ratchet's voice startled Trigger slightly, though he'd seen the medic when he drove in. "Whatever you got into, let's see what's left of you."

Amunet grumbled, less than pleased with the idea of leaving her very warm nest on Trigger's seat, but she uncurled anyway, unwilling to anger him.

The Pagani's door snapped open, allowing Amunet to amble over to the CMO. Once she was a safe distance away, the black mech began his transformation sequence, eager to stretch again. And move further away from the rather disgruntled looking medic.

"What in the Pit did you get into?" Ratchet demanded as he ran detailed scans and began to prep an injection for her to speed the healing and dull the pain.

"'Con drone," she shrugged, only to wince as abused and torn muscles objected. "Maybe the Con. Definitely a fall down the slope. It's something of a blur."

Ratchet gave her a scrutinizing look before giving her the injection. Then he glared at Jazz. "Are you ever going to declassify what happened?"

"Probably not," the silver Solstice shrugged on his suspension.

With a disgruntled huff, the medic focused on his patient again. "You are either extremely lucky, or thank Primus whatever happened after the damage. You healed very fast."

"I know," she said quietly, suddenly uneasy under the scrutiny. "I wasn't very aware for most of it."

"Be grateful for that too," he grunted as the pilot announced they were going to start rolling. Ratchet braced Amunet carefully with his hand. "Jazz asked me to oversee your recovery personally. He knows it's easier to pull rank on me than the human doctors."

"Hay, it's true," Jazz quipped as the engines outside roared to full power and the transport launched into the air with more force that usual because of the short runway.

"Now," Ratchet focused on Amunet. "You can lay down in me, or you can snuggle inside one of them, but you are going to rest somewhere padded and warm."

"You'll get no argument from me," she promised and glanced at Trigger, uncertain if she wanted to ask him to sit still for that long.

After a thorough stretch, the mech stilled as he heard the medic's words. Tilting his helm, yellow optics gleamed when he caught Amunet glancing at him. Chuckling slightly, doors flaring an inch, he leaned down.

"I'll get a workout when I get back to the base ... erh, probably after the debriefing," he straightened and smiled. Plating fell apart as he transformed back into his alt-form, that door opening a little gingerly. "Seats still warm."

"Thanks," Amunet gave him a warm smile and stroked the top of his door lightly before sitting in the passenger side. She gave the back a gentle push and he lowered the seat so she could lie down. "Warm and sleep sound really good," she mumbled, closing her eyes with a grateful sound for the warmth surrounding her.

Rumbling gently, Trigger eased himself back into a safe spot out of anybots way and settled in for the flight.

* * *

It was past midnight, joors after Amunet and Jazz had the meeting with Prime, when he went looking for her. Or rather, pinged her socket location on the base computer. Only it showed her in the middle of the lagoon, not far from where a fleet had anchored only a couple years before.

Frowning, Trigger thought to himself _How in Cybertron am I going to get out there?_

Regardless, the black mech bid good night to the other 'Bots he'd been conversing with and transformed. Following the route charted for him by his navigator, Trigger took off at speed. He drove out the causeway not far from the runway's control tower until he reached the end. He still had almost two miles before he reached her location in the deepest part of the lagoon.

With a warble of agitation, the mech lowered himself into the water. It was warm, pleasantly so, but dark and he could feel the some corals beneath his large feet crumble like ash. His progress was slow, him being more than wary of the open waters. He was used to enclosed spaces, tightly knit trees or at least solid ground beneath his feet.

A small pressure-wave of water was his only warning before his IR scans set off with a very large shape coming towards him.

Startled Trigger inadvertently released a whine of distress. His doors flared to their full height as he tried to calm his whirring processor, servo seconds from transforming into his shotgun. "Too much slagging liquid," he growled hurriedly, waiting for the shape to surface. If it did.

The creature circled him once, then stopped in front of him and lifted its head half way up, it's jaw line matching the waterline.

"Trigger," Amunet's familiar half-beast rumble greeted him.

Despite steeling himself for when it emerged, the mech still jumped, sloshing water all over his chassis. Yellow optics wide and bright stared down at the familiar scaled head, headlights illuminating the water around her and causing her slitted eyes to shine back at him. "H-Hey Amunet," he chattered, doors lowering in relief.

"Go on, get back on land. I'll meet you at Simpson Point," she nudged him gently.

More than a little grateful, Trigger smiled widely at here, "Sure thing."

Again, his stumbling made the trip back to the beach slightly arduous. Shaking off as much water from his plating as he could, the mech transformed and drove passed the airfield on route to Simpson Point. It was closer to the base than he really liked given her form, and he only belatedly realized that she'd swim in _open ocean_ to get there.

Transforming, the mech looked back in the direction of the base with a frown. Why had she chosen here? So close? Guilty for his lack of thought, Trigger came to wait on the shoreline, optics bright and expectant.

He picked up the movement on the surface before anything else, a shape that could be her head moving towards him at a very good clip.

Cautious still, the mech slowly squatted down closer to the water's surface. "Amunet?" he called little above a whisper.

Thirty feet out, the water too shallow for the large body to submerge anymore, and he saw her transform into the tiny human form he was so fond of. It still hurt his processors to think of the creature nearly as tall as Prime shrinking down into a human, but here he was looking at it again.

"I'm here," she called back to him, her multitude of tight braids, each capped in carved jade, spread out from where she was treading water with a warm smile before lazily swimming towards shore.

He rose to his feet, observing her swimming with his own smile, the mech sloshed through the water. He was careful not to send waves her way, pausing so he matched her speed until the sand began to rise up. "Midnight swim? Or find something tasty?" his faceplate curved into a cheeky grin as he descended to the sand below.

"Healing as fast as I can," she grinned and swam up to him. "I have gills in that form. I was sleeping in the middle of the lagoon."

"Better than sharing a barracks with a certain pair of twins," he grumbled at the thought of Mudflaps and Skids. "At least you'll feel comfortable there. I'm glad to hear that your healing well, the rate at which you do that is remarkable," he tilted his head to watch her.

"Anything is better than the younger twins," she agreed and paddled up to him. "How was your day?"

"Debrief was the usual boring slag, but going out to the range was good," he pulled up one leg, whilst the other extended out before him. He offered her a hand. "And yourself? How was the meeting?"

She shuddered before willingly climbing on his hand. "I've had better. There are werewolves in NEST."

Bringing his hand before him he growled lightly. "In hiding I take it."

"Just like I am," she nodded. "Prime ordered Jazz to get their side, find out if these ones will be trouble for me. I didn't like his tone though. At least one of the wolves is very valuable to him."

The black mech lowered his optical ridges. "As long as they don't find out about you. How did Prime take it?"

"Surprised. I don't think the Garou told him about the other races," she murmured, snuggling against him with a happy sound. "He was not at all pleased that I wanted to remain hidden from them because they'll try to kill me for being Mokolé. So pretty much as I expected."

The mech vented a soft sigh, bringing Amunet closer to his chassis. "But at least you have the boss in the know." His optics were duller than usual. A finger trailed down her arm slowly. "I am sorry for this mess, but I'm glad I found you when I did."

"I would have recovered," she stroked his chest in return. "It may have taken longer, but I would have been fine. If I do have to bolt, I'll try to find a way to let you know I've moved and not died. From the numbers, I could win the fight, but it would draw far too much attention from their kin. I'm not sure even your kind would survive a coordinated effort from theirs."

His optics glowed softly, and a rumble of affection sounded from beneath her fingertips, "I will help look into a way for us to converse freely. I would hate for something to happen to you, and I have to find out from Jazz or somebot." Trigger looked down at her with surprise when her second comment registered. "These Garou are that versatile?

"Versatile has little to do with it," she said grimly. "Though they are mammals, with the versatility that brings. They are numerous, well equipped, savage, ruthless and organized. Even with my limited knowledge of their full abilities, this base and it's population could be razed in a single strike they are more than capable of delivering if they chose to."

The mech let out a vent of surprise, optics widening. "I see. Definitely not to be underestimated then."

"No," she agreed. "They exterminated three races, almost exterminated three more, including my own, and effectively broke the power of the rest all within a generation. The only forces they haven't managed to shatter are the vampires and the humans. The first I'm not sure ever saw a coordinated effort and the second they only attempted to cull, not destroy."

Leaning back, Trigger looked upwards into the sky at whatever stars peeked out. "Our war was not the first to have disturbed this planet then. Organics and Cybertronians have similar histories. War, massive loss of life." He glanced back down and frowned at her. "Your kin and these Garou, will you ever find peace?"

She mulled it over, and sighed. "Possible, yes. Will it happen in my lifetime, I doubt it. There is too much pain, too much Wyrm-taint for it to happen."

"Wyrm-taint?" he adjusted his door wings as he asked.

She paused, organizing an answer he might understand. "There are three great forces that shape reality; the Wyld, the Weaver and the Wyrm. The Wyld is the force of creation, it is chaos and new life. The Weaver is what binds reality in a form of order. The Wyrm is destruction.

"Once, they were in balance. The Wyld would create, the Weaver would bind in her web and create order of the Wyld's chaos, and when the web became too stifling, the Wyrm would destroy some of it to create space for new creation." She dropped her eyes, watching the black water of the tropical sea. "Then the Weaver captured the Wyrm in her web, and the Wyrm went mad. She no longer sought to keep balance with her sisters, but to destroy everything. Thus began the end-times we are in now."

Trigger listened with intrigue, his processor shifting through what he'd just heard. "So this Wyrm has influenced the Garou's desire to destroy the other races, including your own?"

"It is not proven, and it is an accusation of unparalleled import. Worse than even treason," she cautioned him. "But it seems so very likely. The timing, their actions ... they were always a proud race, one who believed they were better than all others, but the War of Rage they inflicted on Gaia, on Her creations, in Her name ... that is beyond sanity. It is the very description of what Wyrm-taint does."

The mech listened thoughtfully. Although still a little confused, he managed to grasp the just of what the little female was saying. "You're culture is intriguing, but this is troubling. Will this not balanced out again? You speak of this planet as a being ... will it not right itself?"

"In theory, but not before everything is wiped out," she said softly. "A full reformat," she tried for a term he might understand better.

His optics grew bright, his door wings shuddering before snapping shut. Trigger rumbled, not at all happy with Amunet's desponded reply. He tried a change in topic. "Do you want to return to recharge? A hunt maybe? Something to take your mind off of things?" His hand enclosed gently around her, but remained open enough so that the female could move if she wished.

She smiled sadly at him. "Recharge sounds good," she murmured. "Do you have private quarters?"

The mech smiled warmly at her and stroked her back carefully, "Yeah, got a room to myself in the barracks."

Gently, Trigger lowered his hand to the floor and let the female slide off. Drawing back the mech, straightened before transforming. His door popped open in invitation and she climbed in.

"The lagoon is warm and wet, but curling up with you sounds very good right now," she murmured as she settled in with an affectionate stroke to his dashboard.

He rumbled, his seat vibrating soothingly as a belt snuck round her in an embrace. He revved his engine a little, sand flying from his wheels as he spede off smoothly towards the base. "Likewise," he purred.


	4. Recovered Sniper

Ratchet's endless questions and rather suspicious glances back at him had Trigger on edge, even if he was standing rather silently to one side. A couple of days had passed since Amunet had come back and curled up on his berth, remaining there for joors on end. He had been commed by Jazz a joor or so ago, asking if he knew the whereabouts of the Captain. She'd missed one of her checkups.

He'd shuddered at the news, _'Off to the medbay then.'_

After rousing and conversing with the female, she'd agreed to swing by the good Doctor. Only now, Trigger was getting a bit agitated with the questions the perceptive old mech was asking. Never good with superiors, he had done his best to answer with as little and as vaguely as he could. But that didn't seem to satisfy Ratchet at all.

Watching Amunet and Ratchet conversing, he tried to keep his audios from overhearing. But by Primus, his audio receptors were burning with curiosity.

"I'm surprised you're with him," Ratchet said as he ran a scan over her, checking on her recovery. "Hasn't Jazz..." he paused when she rolled her eyes.

"Yes, he's been courting me. Given how poorly I get along with Prowl, it's not likely to work unless I _need_ him."

"Need?" Ratchet raised an optic ridge.

"He's Second in Command and the deadliest thing around," she pointed out with a shrug. "Good protection."

The hunter bot had to control his door wings, Ratchet was straight in there with the sensitive stuff. He doubted he could remain still for long and still look uninterested, so he ventured across and lowered himself into one of the mech sized chairs.

Despite himself, Trigger was eager to hear more of Amunet's opinion on this delicate matter.

"Just what would you need protection _from_ that he wouldn't give to anyone in NEST?" Ratchet scowled at her.

"I'm not without enemies, Ratchet," she sidestepped the question. "Some who would be quite happy to see me dead. I do not expect to need it, so while he hasn't given up, I'm no more inclined to say yes than I was three months ago."

Trigger's optics betrayed him, brightening. He had a chance still, his vision glancing over at the conversing pair. He was tempted to cross the room and interrupt, Ratchet's angled questions getting to him. This protectiveness was getting the better of him, but he couldn't help it. Clenching a servo, he looked away.

He didn't have any actual right to feel like this yet.

Ratchet's voice dropped in volume, but not quiet enough to avoid being picked up by the hunter's sharp senses.

"Don't play them, Mubarak. Either of them," his tone was more stern than anything.

"I'm not," she squared her gaze at the medic. "They're well aware of each other, Jazz knows exactly where he stands and why and Trigger does too. I like'm both, but Prowl's more than I'm going to deal with."

Ratchet gave a bit of a snort and nodded. "All right, as far as I can tell, you're physically fit for duty again."

He picked her up and placed her on the ground. "Now scat, both of you."

Glad for being dismissed, Trigger rose smartly to his feet. Approaching them, he nodded faintly to Ratchet before turning to Amunet.

"Shall I transform? Or the hand?"

"Transform, if you don't mind," she smiled warmly up at him and got in the passenger side without hesitation when he did. She waited until they were out of audio range of Ratchet before speaking again. "Is it safe to assume you heard everything?"

Trigger revved his engine in response, taking corners carefully to avoid any humans they passed, "Yeah I did...Prowl and you really don't see eye to optic?"

"No, I don't," she admitted. "How he gets along so well with Jazz I'll never understand, but the rules he's got hardcoded in him really don't mesh well with my combination of operating methods and secrets I have no intention of telling him. He doesn't like it at all."

His voice reverberated quietly around her, his tone thoughtful, "I guess Prowl is an unmovable mech. I had wondered how he and Jazz came to be, but I put it down to opposite sparks attracting."

"They balance each other," she shrugged. "At least by the time they bonded. Even the brief version I heard from Jazz wasn't the kind of setup I'd call healthy before that. I'm not entirely convinced it's healthy now."

"I see," he replied. "Because of this, becoming Jazz's socket gets quite complicated? They are as one, not apart of course." He vented, his confrontation with Jazz aboard the Indian flight coming back to him. "He's determined, Jazz I mean. Even with Prowl."

"He's a hunter, Trigger. One who's been the best so long that he fixates on anything that presents a challenge. Prowl was the first, and last, individual he couldn't break in a few orn. He's told me several times that Prowl won't cause a problem, and to be honest, I believe him. If he could be a breeding mate, I'd have jumped at the chance to have him sire a few hatchlings. As it stands, he's simply too dangerous not to keep at least somewhat pacified."

His jealousy prevented this rivalry from settling, not liking the idea of having to appease Jazz just to keep the peace. His seats vibrated as he growl quietly, but he kept his tone civil. "I won't say that I like it, but then this isn't just about me. You have a point. But I'm not backing down because he finds you his next delightful challenge."

"I'm not asking you to," she patted his seat. "Being claimed by another is the best way to stop him. That's a line even he won't cross thanks to the damage the nanites can do, and probably Prowl's influence. I'm just not willing to accept anyone to avoid him. He is a lot of fun as long as he's not getting too serious on me."

His temper cooled slightly. "Of course not, claiming is not there just to keep other mechs away ... no matter how much that appeals to me at this point," he grumbled the latter. "Where to Captain?" he slowed so that she could decide their route.

"Common room?" she suggested. "I'm famished. That much healing takes a lot out of me, and I haven't gotten to socialize in way too long."

"Nourishment it is then," he said jovially, engine revving as he turned and sped off in the direction of the rec room. The short drive was in comfortable silence, and Amunet was almost feeling like herself against when the smell of meats, fish, cheese and fresh bread from the mess hall.

"Definitely need to eat," she grinned and slipped out so he could transform. "How often do you have energon?"

Trigger's optics brightened at the mention of energon, straightening as his door wings closed, "I normally have a ration or two once every few solar cycles. My tank's due for another I would say."

"Then you get yours, I'll get mine, and we can refuel together," she suggested with a smile as he walked beside her into the mess hall, seeing many familiar faces amidst the various humans and mechs.

Amunet smiled and waved to those she knew, which seemed to be nearly every mech and most of the combat personnel as she headed for the buffet of human food.

Trigger nodded, venturing off to the energon dispenser. Huffer's broad but small - comparable with his own, frame blocked his path. The mech was filling his own cube with the pink substance. With a grin, Trigger plucked up a cube and came up beside him. "Surprised to see you outside of that workshop."

Undeterred by the Pagani's sudden appearance, the gruff older mech stood up and glower at him slightly. "I have a life outside of my work, lugnut. Although it's a dull one."

Trigger's grin grew, filling his cube before spying the group of rowdy technicians seated around Brawn, "A party, aye? What do you know, you've got something burning in that chassis of yours after all, Huffer."

A half-sparked bat over Trigger's helm was the old mech's reply, Trigger feigning pain. "I hear you've been seen with an organic? That her over there?"

Trigger followed the Huffer's optics to the Captain at the buffet and smiled warmly. "It is indeed, Captain Mubarak. Come say hi?"

Shrugging the engineer followed after him. Both relatively short mechs were still careful of their steps in the human part of the room as they made their way to where Amunet was picking up a second slice of thick ham to add to the scrambled eggs, bacon, three kinds of sausage, toast with butter and jam and a large glass of orange juice.

Huffer rose his optical ridge at the amount of food the femme had, glancing at the black mech, "Is that femme al-?"

Trigger hastily shrugged, "Humans are all different Huffer, some of those techs shovel their rations like Primus knows what."

The Pagani was relieved that Huffer let it drop, "Amunet, going alright?"

"Yes," she smiled warmly at them. "The femme is fine, Huffer. She's just recovering from several days with minimal food after being badly injured."

Trigger glanced at Huffer with a grin. "See, all good gramps."

Glowering at him, Huffer turned back to Amunet. "I am glad to hear it, Mubarak. It has been a while since we last spoke. I hope the lugnut hasn't given you any hassle."

"Nope," she snickered and snagged a serving of melon and fruit. "He's been a sweetie and an entirely too understanding a pillow while I was recovering."

The Pagani vented at Huffer's expression. "She wanted the company and I was more than happy to provide it."

Huffer shook his helm with a slight, ghostly smile. "You are soft at spark, Trigger. Brawn won't believe it."

His door wings lifted in embarrassment, but the hunter bot smiled. "Do you want to meet the techs, Amunet? Or have you a place you'd like to sit?"

"If they don't mind a combat officer crashing their party," she grinned, though she was serious about it. "Most enlisted get edgy around officers they don't work with. Otherwise the guys," she flicked her chin towards a couple tables of Special Forces teams. "Will be happy to have a shot at my time."

Huffer nodded at her statement, "Then I shall ask for you."

The engineer stilled for a moment, optics zoning out. Trigger looked over his shoulder to see Brawn in a similar state. Brawn straightened and seemed to converse with the techs around him.

Huffer vented, "That bot is so egotistic at times."

Several faces peered their way, Brawn giving them an affirmative nod. Trigger grinned, "Seems these techs want to break the mould."

"Then the guys'll just have to wait for a bit," Amunet chuckled and walked towards the techs with Trigger and Huffer in tow.

"Hay, I'm Amunet," she introduced herself as the small corner lift brought her to the human-sized part of the table that was raised so they could converse with smaller mechs.

Huffer seated himself next to Brawn, the latter appraising the new femme. Amidst the spread of foods across the table, ranging from junk foods - that had gotten under Ratchet's optics - to vegetables, numerous technicians watched her. A few waved a little sheepishly, unsure of the Captain. But a darker haired, older woman smiled warmly at her.

"We've heard about you, Captain. Lovely to finally meet you," she stood and offered a hand once Amunet had popped her food on the table, "I'm senior technician Megan Williams."

Trigger leaned against Brawn's chair, sipping his energon with an amused expression.

Amunet raised an eyebrow as she extended a hand to shake Megan's. "So who's been spreading rumors about me?" she asked with a playful voice before she began to eat.

A couple of techs deadpanned and looked pointedly at the Pagani who was feigning nonchalantly. He sent a beady glower at the perpetrators, "I see that Louis can't keep his vocals down."

Brawn snickered, lowering his energon cube, "You're no better, love-sick youngling."

Trigger growled a little at Brawn. He sending Amunet a meaningful glance, "All good stuff, nothing personal."

"That good," Amunet smiled. "I'd hate to see a contract out on you," she gave him a wink and looked over at Megan. "Anyone settled in with a mech yet?"

Megan nodded and glanced at Brawn. He rose an optical ridge at her before his mouthplate pulled back in a smirk.

"Brawn has been courting me for some time and although she is not here at the moment, another of our techs - Cathy - seems quite taken with Bluestreak."

"Sweet kid, hell of a shot," Amunet nodded. "He's a real pleasure to work with in the field. Is she nice?"

"She's a laugh, bit of a mother hen though," Megan sighed. "But overall a nice woman."

Trigger straightened from his perch and came to sit at last. "Her vocal processor malfunctions doesn't it?"

Louis sighed, clapping his hand to his head. "It's called an accent Trigs."

"Like Jazz," Amunet added. "Different regions of Earth have different lingual traits, just like different cities on Cybertron."

The Pagani tilted his helm, "Ah, makes sense now. I thought it had all been lost in translation."

Louis shook his head exasperated and turned back to his meal.

"Only if the mech wants it to be," Amunet chuckled. "Jazz, Ironhide and a couple others like sounding different for whatever reason. They're perfectly capable of talking newscaster English if they want, they just don't want to. Pride in heritage isn't just an human thing."

Trigger mulled over that, "Hmm, it took me a while to adjust to the translation package I was given on arrival ... never thought about embellishing it." He grinned, finishing his energon. "I think I'll stick to what I have."

"You won't get an argument from me," Amunet gave him a smile before focusing on her meal for a bit, then she glanced up at Megan. "How'd Cathy and Bluestreak get together?"

Megan put her drink down. "From what I've heard," she glanced pointedly over at a sheepish Louis. "They met just after her socket was installed. He helped her carry her tools and it grew from there." The older woman sighed. "I not entirely sure how far along they are. I presume that they are just taking their time."

"Slow isn't a bad thing," Amunet said with an easy smile. "He's one of mine, a sniper. We try to look after each other."

"As do we techs. One large happy family," Louis interjected, before getting scowled at.

Megan nodded to Amunet. "He was always kind when he was about in the workshop, always helping where he could. Nice to know someone's watching his back out there."

"While he's watching everyone else's," Amunet agreed behind a drink of juice. "He's one of the best I've seen. Real sweet mech off the battlefield too. A mothering socket would be good for him."

Louis looked up from his meal he'd been stabbing at, a curiosity in his eyes. "How long you been in the military Captain? Where were you first stationed?"

"Since I graduated High School," she answered. "First post was Fort Sherman, Panama. On paper, most of my career has been at Fort Polk, Louisiana and Camp Shelby, Mississippi. That's about as accurate as it is for most of the guys," she motioned towards the tables that were dominated by the combat teams with a low chuckle. "But it does well enough."

"Then you traveled around alot? My dad was the same. Traveled back and forth between countries," the blonde tech shook his head, rubbing absently at his neck.

"Yes," Amunet nodded. "When I wasn't training the next generation, I was sent wherever they needed a crack shot."

Megan watched the tables of soldiers and glanced back at Amunet. "If you prefer Captain, you can easily eat with you comrades."

Brawn pushed his empty cube towards Trigger, and smirked. "Wanting another?"

Trigger growled lightly at him, door wings raised. "Get your own refill lazy aft."

"Hay Mubarak," Major Lennox called out across the tables between them. "Get your aft over here." Despite his words, his voice was full of good humor and he was grinning at her.

"That would be one officer not to piss off," Amunet chuckled and stood. "Have a good meal, it was pleasant meeting you," she excused herself and picked up her tray to join her comrades.


	5. Jungle Hunt

"So what are the rules?" Amunet rumbled in excitement as the NEST C-17 neared their destination in the Congo basin.

"No inflicting serious injuries, no using native forces against the others, if attacked by an outside force, the game is off until the threat is dealt with," Jazz summed it up.

Trigger felt a thrum of anticipation in his spark, nodding his helm in acceptance to Jazz's terms, "Understood." He leaned back against the wall, eager for what was to come, "We are each other's targets, I take it?"

"Yap," Jazz grinned even wider. "Given what we all are, it seemed a good way to ease some of the tension."

Trigger's facial plates twitched with amusement. "I'm game. Particularly with such challenging quarry."

"So am I," Amunet grinned with a devilish glint in her deep brown eyes. "I'm looking forward to coming home with both my trophies."

Jazz laughed, a playful, delighted sound of honest good humor. "We'll see who comes home with the trophies, Mokolé."

The Pagani's optics gleamed with sudden excitement. The prospect of a long hunt and his prey being a particularly delicious femme did wonderful things to his spark. "Not long till landing, I hope."

"Less than a breem," Jazz rumbled with his own eagerness.

"You two really think you can take me in my own environment?" Amunet's brown eyes glittered with her grin.

Trigger looked down at her with a slightly feral grin. "I'm certainly no stranger to this. As for you..." he turned his helm so he could zoom his optics out the tiny window. "I can at least try."

Amunet snickered. "It's going to be a fun month."

"Definitely," Jazz agreed and they settled in for the transport to land and come to a quick, hard stop on the open ground that was passing as their runway.

"Pilot says we're all clear," Jazz spoke up and transformed alt mode before the cargo bay door began to descend. "The hunt starts at dawn."

Beside him Trigger's Pagani form bounced on his shocks. "Split now? Will you need a lift into the jungle Amunet?"

"It's thirty yards away, pretty," she patted his roof and watched Jazz drive off. "Get going. I'll be on your tail before you know it, and then your chassis is mine."

With a revv of his engine, the Pagani pulled back and swerved round Amunet. His boot bounced as he tore off down the ramp with something akin to childish glee.

Once under the cover of the trees, he was lost to his primal hunting mode. "Primus, sometimes I wonder why I gave this up!"

Within an hour he became aware that something was following him. He was sure it wasn't Jazz. Even if half the silver mech reputation was inflated, he shouldn't be that easy to pick up without giving any of his Cybertronian nature away.

Trigger by then had transformed back into his bipedal form. He slowed in his prowl through the undergrowth, his optics flitting from side to side as he doubled his IR scans.

Nothing.

Well, plenty of animal life, but nothing that might qualify as a hunter. Definitely not Jazz or Amunet. No humans, drones or Cons either.

An optical ridge rose as the black mech crouched, he was now beginning to regret that fact that he couldn't use his detectors here - what with the rules and all, he'd neglected to take any spare. They'd at least give him a basic analysis of whatever had triggered them.

He pressed his back to a thick tree, making sure he could see at least 180 degrees around and above. His servo twitched, his shotgun begging to come out.

 ** _"What in the Pits?"_** he hissed in Cybertronian, trying to track anything that moved.

He found nothing but normal animals. Yet he was absolutely sure it was no animal that had triggered his warnings.

After a breem or so, he vented. Nothing. But that eerie feeling just wouldn't leave him. No matter, he pressed on. He raised his door wings so their sensors could continue their routine scanning.

Several indigenous birds flapped about above his head, but he remained focused, despite their bright colors. He still had the data on Amunet from their last mission, hopefully he could put that to good use later. For now he'd have to try and remain undetectable.

The jungle was so full of life, but none of it the life he was looking for. Two joor past sunset he settled into a defensible position well up in one of the giant trees that flourished in the area.

Less than two breems later his systems kicked on with a start as proximity sensors alerted him to something they couldn't identify within ten meters of him.

He kept his optics powered down, his frame as still as possible. Door wings twitched ever so slightly as he zoomed his optics in around the base and a quick glance above him.

There, one level above him. A shape and size reminiscent of a Struthio camelus with a long, reptilian tail, but seemingly at home in the high branches.

Still extremely wary, the mech couldn't help but wonder whether this creature was of similar kin to Amunet. The way its tail curved round the branches like those monkeys did, it seemed strong enough to act as another limb but he couldn't be sure.

He moved ever so slightly, testing to see if the creature was indeed recharging.

It seemed to nearly explode into movement with a squawk that set off birds and animals around the tree before taking a flying leap into another tree, using all five limbs to catch hold but only it's two longer hind legs to actually move.

What really struck Trigger was the way it darted was ... intelligent. It wasn't the way an animal would escape. This creature was putting distance between them yes, but was far more concerned with line-of-sight than distance.

His optics powered on now, his plans for recharge draining quickly away as he refocused on the bizarre creature. It may have settled into new nest three trees away, but it was still very much aware. Like it had been far before he'd been aware of it.

He balanced himself between the huge branches, his servos whirring as he clutch at the bark. Traveling like this would pose as a threat, he thought as he raised his door wings, but his curiosity was killing him.

So for the next joor and a half he and the creature performed a strange sort of dance in the trees. He'd move. It would move. Always at least twenty meters between them, but never more than thirty-five.

It hadn't panicked again, and every time he got a good look it was watching him, it's long neck raised fully and huge eyes following every twitch he made.

It was cold blooded too, since it didn't show up on IR at all until he upped the gain so far that the sensor fed him gibberish if he didn't know exactly what he was looking at.

An internet search eventually turned up a reasonable match for body design and size, except for the small fact that Utahraptor was from a different continent and had died out 126 million years before.

Irritated his scans weren't even picking up a faint signature, Trigger filed away a reminder to ask the newly arrived Wheeljack if there was any upgrades.

 _Definitely a relative of the Captain's_ he concluded, sitting back on his haunches, venting as the creature mimicked him. He had to get on with his task, but this creature was too fascinating to leave.

"I wonder if there is any way to communicate with it ... it's squawking must have some translation," he moved again, listening intently.

Still no sound, but instead of backing away it very cautiously circled closer to him.

Optics narrowed as he crouched lower, eying the creature with slightly surprise. "Great now I can't try and translate anything," he uttered almost inaudible.

"I know your sounds," the creature said back, it's voice a growled mixture of squawk and English as it made a lightning-fast leap to another branch closer. "What are you?"

Trigger stilled, "Cybertronian - Autobot, autonomous robotic organisms to quote our Prime." He tilted his helm as he regarded the creature. "Obviously not your everyday intruder."

It came another branch closer. Within what Trigger now calculated to be it's attack range. Brightly colored feathers fluffed and it sniffed the air deeply.

"You smell of kin, no blood."

He knew it, watching the creature diligently. He hesitated for a moment, more than a little reluctant to part with the Captain's secret - regardless of who it was. "I've been around someone of a similar nature to yourself, yes ... and definitely no blood."

There was another long pause as the wildlife went crazy. Low rumbles traveled threw air and ground, pitch and frequency varying too much to be natural.

"Come," the creature eventually told him as it made a quick series of hops to the jungle floor. "We forgive rudeness. She tried to talk first. You moved faster than her messenger."

Greatly intrigued yet slightly confused, the hunter bot expertly navigated down the tree, his door wings splayed. Carefully he came to the overgrown ground and followed after the creature.

"I meant no offense or harm," he added just in case, optics flitting from side to side at the noise of varying wildlife, "Are you of the same tribe?"

"We are Mokolé, yes," the sleek biped said before darting off. While its form was meant to travel in these conditions, it stuck to paths he could travel without doing much damage. "We have watched since you landed. You do not act like the other invaders."

Trigger hummed from within his chassis, bending down to avoid low lying branches. "I have been in similar environments to this one. My instincts are that of a hunter."

The creature, the height of a human male, dipped it's head slightly but otherwise didn't respond.

Again his sensors gave him nothing but gibberish, fueling his fascination, "Where are we?"

"Just a place to discuss your hunt," it said calmly as moonlight gave his visual sensors enough light to pick out several large reptiles ... crocodiles, his databanks provided, though not what type ... in the shallow pool. Around the water were three other creatures he could not begin to classify, much like Amunet's war form.

::I see you did the smart thing too,:: Jazz's amused voice came over his internal comm. ::Apparently we move too fast for local politics.::

He snickered quietly as he replied, ::Why am I not surprised to hear from you. First into everything.:: He continued to look about the pool with interest, ::Amunet tried to warn them first I take it? Sensible as always,:: "Ah, of course" he answered it.

::Yes, she is. I just wish she'd warned _me_ we needed to wait a few more days,:: Jazz's pout could almost be heard.

::You remember I can hear you, right?:: Amunet broke into the conversation. ::Field op mods.::

Ah, upgrades.

::Evening Amunet,:: Trigger added cheekily, trying to chase away the amusing image of Jazz pouting from his processor. ::I believe I may have met some relatives.::

::You have,:: she chuckled as one of the crocodiles walked out of the wallowing hole and transformed to Amunet's human form.

"I will _never_ get used to seeing that," Jazz shook his head in bemusement.

"It's certainly something," the hunter bot smiled at her in greeting. "I didn't know you had a family reunion planned," he lowered his door wings as a sign that he was merely playing.

Amunet rolled her eyes and smiled at him. "Come here, there are boundaries to our hunt," she motioned them to a crude map drawn in the mud.

With a nod, he paced forward, optics zooming into the mud map. He started replicating it into a manageable file he'd use for later reference. It took him a moment, GPS being a bit sluggish this far out, but a pre-drawn map was then graphed onto the original. "Gotcha," he uttered once complete, yellow optics brightening again.

"Ditto," Jazz nodded after double checking that Trigger had the same parameters he did. "We won't be hunting anything but each other, no killing."

"You welcome to kill outsider humans," the one who had led Trigger here spoke up. "They not welcome here. Ever. Evil creatures."

Trigger regarded the Mokolé with a mixture of understanding yet sadness. "I'll pass on that. Understood Jazz, abandon if 'Cons show." Despite himself, the Pagani grew eager again. His door wings twitched with anticipation.

"One new rule," Jazz regarded Amunet evenly. "No help from the locals."

"Wasn't planning on it," she said easily. "You both know this," she motioned to the gathering around them. "Does not go beyond us." ::And Prowl, but he doesn't tell anyone either.:: she added on a scrambled channel to Jazz.

"Of course," the silver mech nodded.

Trigger nodded his helm, "Got my word." He ran a quick diagnostic on his sensors to see if there was anything he could do to enhance them. But alas, nothing came of it, "When do we start?"

"Now," Jazz grinned. "We still hunt at dawn."

Amunet's dark eyes glittered in the darkness and she turned, transforming into a Nile Crocodile and slipping into the water before disappearing.

"Take that as our cue," Trigger replied, door wings raising as he too picked his route and delved into the wild vegetation.

* * *

Low-lying cloud from the mountains had descended into the basin as the fiery sun began its climb. Trigger had recharged the following night nestled in the giant arms of a crooked old tree. When the first rays of light spilled over the hills, the hunter bot's systems started and bright yellow optics flickered into existence.

After a small energon ration from his subspace compartment, the Pagani started his routine. The map of the land and its relief was one of many tabs open on his HUD, his GPS and sensors all relaying valuable information. Once on the jungle floor, located the watering hole from the previous night and calculated various locations either of his prey could be found in. But he'd had to be skeptical. Based on the information he'd gathered/deduced on Amunet's reptilian form - length, strength and speed - didn't necessarily mean she'd been in these places yet. As for Jazz, well, Trigger had all the information he'd need. Speed, signal frequency and the knowledge the silver mech was extremely adaptable.

There was also the blaring issue that made this hunt so different any other - he was also very much the prey as well. So as Trigger scouted various overgrown paths he'd calculated would be most active, he set up minor monitoring devices that would relay any movement, IR readings or nearby signals directly back to him. Allowing him time to either flee or prepare.

Joors passed. The black mech memorizing notable, natural formations and terrain types, potential perches giving birds eye view whilst providing suitable coverage. He was meticulous about his tracks, cautious of less stable ground. He'd taken into account that the Captain's sense of smell would far surpass the capabilities of the usual human. He knew there was little he could do, so emit various misleading smells was his best line of defense there.

He currently perched beneath a heavy endowed tree, its branches and greenery tumbling over his upper frame, scrutinizing his location in a good three to four mile radius. The thrill of this all had mellowed now, his mind now settled into his work. His optics darted down to several spherical objects in his servos. Trigger grinned as he placed the carefully into his subspace compartment - that was one participant taken care of.

Near two in the morning, after the moon had set on the sixth night of the hunt, Trigger picked up the faintest hint of something ... off ... along his perimeter. Not enough to be sure what had happened, only that _something_ had cross the boundary with a significant amount of stealth.

Yellow optics snapped off in the direction of the tiny buzz of inference with his perimeter alarm. Optical ridges lowered as he cross-section into that particular sector. After noting the proximity to both water and large tracks he couldn't rule out either of his prey/pursuers.

With a gruff vent, the mech set off into the night. "Time for a closer look."

He moved cautiously, well aware that in 'fair' combat either of them could take him down. Even with his sensors wide open and searching, he had no idea which of them, if either, had crossed his perimeter.

After coming closer to the source his HUD flash up a warning, and he paused. What if this was a trap, an attempt to get him out of his sensor filled territory? His engine growled with indignation. He didn't like this waiting, not being able to stalk his prey but instead become that which he normally hunted. He had to play on both fronts, and he'd much rather play it on his own side of the board.

Knowing that whatever had come across was now definitely closer, the mech paced back from the ledge that over looked the disturbance.

There were faint traces; a partial pede-print, a claw-mark on a tree.

Jazz.

And most likely Jazz leaving an intentional trail for him. A mech didn't survive as long as Jazz did doing what the little silver Pit-spawn did without being far better than to leave a trail.

Trigger snorted, the mech was intentionally baiting him. Well, the Saboteur would see that this wasn't just his court. Examining the print, his HUD taking a snapshot, Trigger recorded the length and width of the scratch just to be sure. Comparing it, he found a match - Yep, Jazz.

Growling slightly, the Pagani turned, but not taking the same route he used before. This time he delved onto far more overgrown path.

He didn't make it ten paces before another parameter alarm went off from nearly the opposite side of his network.

He didn't even need to check that sector to know who it was. Optics narrowed and the hunter bot growled. Just what he needed. He'd have to use the parameter network to catch him out, but he was probably waiting for Trigger to do just that.

He hadn't even made it to the new breach when another alarm went off, marking the third point of a compass.

Getting to the end of his tether, the Pagani's servo clenched till it creaked, his HUD working furiously through the network. He focused in on the fourth point and sent out a hopefully stinging rebound pulse.

::Nice Try, Trigger,:: Jazz's voice chuckled across his comm. ::Not good enough.::

Jazz was getting too close if he was able to locate his comm signal. With a whirr of his engine, Trigger stealthed and ventured into the undergrowth. He had to stay out of reach, close combat was fatal for him - and Primus did he know it.

Sidling down a slope, the mech enter a sector he'd studied particularly closely. Rocky terrain despite the relentless vegetation, hopefully the sensors in place here would lead Jazz directly were he needed him.

He eyed his subspace pocket gleefully.

His sensor network pinged again, another parameter breach well away from his location. Not thirty nanokliks later, a second ping came from a quarter mile away from it.

So much for that, this was proving to be difficult. Venting, the mech continued on, further and further to the east. He was drawing close to the boundaries of his own parameter when it pinged to the south.

Jazz's snickers came over his comm. ::I thought you were a better hunter than this.::

Trigger crested the hill, and spotted one of his parameter transverses. Picking up the pace, the Pagani knelt down and extended the cable from his wrist. Linking up, a rundown of all the alarms sprang up before his HUD. Moments passed as the mech scrutinized every breach, finally finding a pattern.

 _Please, keep talking Jazz_ he thought as his mouthplates stretched.

A tap on his shoulder snapped his head up, right into Jazz's grinning, upside-down face. "Boo."

That smile stayed on his face regardless, cable snapping back into his wrist, "Hello."

A finger twitched, _Steady now_

"Just dropping in," the silver mech winked his visor before curling up into the tree he was handing from and disappearing into the greenery with all the graceful finesse his reputation spoke of.

"So very glad you did," the hunter bot grinned as he rose and backpedaled, optics glowing in the dark. His finger twitched again. This time he uncurled his servo ever so slightly and inserted an object, unnoticed, into a port hidden in his wrist.

* * *

His tools whirred as he put the finishing touches to the last batch of his minor neural charges. It had taken him far longer than he'd wished. Certain tools had gone missing, replaced with organic food substance that left him growling for breems on end.

He'd been able to hide his contraption from the overgrown, silver monkey mech. Only just though.

Now he just had to keep Jazz in the blast radius long enough to set the charge off.

::Are you actually planning to hunt me, or do I have to come get you?:: Jazz suddenly asked over the comm.

Six days. Six days that crazy mech had tormented him. And by sweet Cybertron, it had taking all of his willpower to keep him from snapping.

::And here I was beginning to actually enjoy your company,:: he feigned a sigh as he finished setting the charges.

::Ah, are you missing your pretty organic?:: Jazz teased, or really taunted, him.

Truth be told, his spark did lurch at the mention of Amunet. But he kept his cool, rising to his feet and scanning subtly for his opponent. His name sake ready to go off under the slightest touch

::Pleased to hear she's 'my' organic,:: he rumbled back.

::Of course, you just have to claim her,:: there was a distinctly mocking tone in Jazz voice, a reminder that Trigger hadn't done so yet.

A flash of silver movement in the deep brush about thirty meters away caught his optic.

So close, _so_ tantalizingly close. His optics followed the flitting silver, but he made no attempt to move. ::So says the mech who's had six months and still couldn't::

::Because she doesn't like my bonded. What's your excuse?:: Jazz shot back, once again disappearing from view.

::You and neither of us having enough time between missions,:: he readied himself, IR sensors tracking the Saboteur.

::Nice to know I haven't _completely_ lost my touch,:: Jazz's smirk was audible. ::Seeya.::

Ready and with a grim smile, Trigger played his final hurtful card. ::That's just it though. You have. Letting your emotionally stunted, narrow-minded bonded stop you taking such a delightful socket.::

He was sure he could _feel_ the fury ripple out from a spot in the jungle. His IR lit up with the Saboteurs form as he went from crouched to standing, facing Trigger squarely.

"You will take that back," Jazz's voice was anything but the cool, collected agent of destruction spoken of by Autobots and Cons alike. He still promised death and destruction, but it was now completely and utterly personal. In was in this moment that Trigger believed everything he ever heard about the Terror of Cybertron that was the Decepticon Jazz.

Trigger knew now just how true those stories of this mech were. But if he was to play this right, he had to act the part. His door wings snapped shut with determination, his yellow optics unwavering.

His digit ghosted over the tip of the detonator. The silence was chilling, and his vocals rang out far louder than normal. "No."

One chance...slip up, and he'll slice me up.

Almost in response to that thought an energon blade flicked out of subspace, clearly marking Jazz's position as he stalked forward. Just the way the silver mech held the weapon told Trigger just how much of an impression he'd made with his words. It was hard _not_ to kill that way.

::Trigger, what the _Pit_ is going on?:: Prowl's voice suddenly demanded over his long-range comm.

He crouched slightly, door wings lifting in challenge. ::Minor situation, might have angered your bonded. All part of the plan.::

He backed up slightly, passed the quarantine zone that would shield him from the blast. The second Jazz came over that sensor, he'd take the hit.

::Very well,:: Prowl sounded much less convinced of the wisdom of it than Trigger. ::Try not to let him kill you. He's not listening to me at the moment.::

::Yes sir.:: Trigger responded and felt the line close.

He took another step back, optics wide, as Jazz stepped into the blast zone. That blade was vicious - and never had he expected the Saboteur to process one. They were illegal as anything on Cybertron or beyond for an Autobot to carry, and he had it on a _friendly_ game of hide and seek?

His finger clicked down hard on the detonator, his HUD registering the massive surge from the neural charge.

For a single utterly processor-melting moment of pure horror, it looked like Jazz wasn't going to go down. His visor flickered and flashed as recognition crossed the Saboteur's features, then somehow even more hatred than before.

Jazz's frame tensed, trying to keep control of itself long enough to attack.

He watched the mech fight valiantly to try to come at him, that blade hissing. The look of realization that dawned across Jazz's face at this kind of double betrayal should have made shame rise in his processor. For Trigger's conscious however, this was nothing. What really made him take another step back was the utter hatred on Jazz's face.

_Primus, that isn't going away any time soon._

He readied the cuffs from his subspace. His servo guards rose up and elongating incase Jazz did in fact get through. Not that they'd last long against a weapon the silver mech shouldn't even have.

Golden optics locked on blue optic band for another tense nanoklik before both understood that Jazz wasn't going to make it.

Funneling every shred of control he had left, Jazz managed to flick his wrist to throw the blade at Trigger. He fell to his knees, his optic band going black before he could see if he hit his target.

An almost-yowl of pain ripped from Trigger's vocals as the weapon sunk in between one of his leg cables. It hissed and spat sparks as it tore through delicate wiring, spending up a spray of bright energon.

It had been all but a few nanokliks before the hunter bot ripped it from his leg out of impulse. It severed several important wires that he knew would eventually render that leg useless.

With the blade discarded, he wasted little time fumbling over the frothing wound. Stasis cuffs glowed in the dark as he moved over Jazz and restrained him. He knew it wouldn't keep him down after that display, so he prepared to put him in medical stasis when the Saboteur refused. He straddled the mech's back, his legs dug deep into the earth as he place neutralizer pads down Jazz's back to control his movements.

He felt the tremor of the previous neural charge dissipated from Jazz's systems. Unsurprisingly, it was faster than normal.

Despite being in full control of his systems again, at least as much as the stasis cuffs allowed, Jazz acted like he was still under.

Trigger leaned back ever so slightly. He knew that when the charge passed a mech took only a few nanokliks to recover, that Jazz was 'playing dead' so to speak. More like lying in wait he thought to himself.

"Yield?" his tone was impassive, optics watching Jazz like a hawk.

"Never," the Saboteur hissed in a voice Trigger was sure was usually reserved for Cons who caught him.

There was a few moments of silence before Trigger pressed a transforming finger close to one of pads, "Had to do it, Jazz."

The mech stiffened and went under, his sleek silver frame limp under Trigger's. It gave the black mech the access he needed to reach the medical stasis twitch just under the back of Jazz's helm.

With a vent of air, he carefully reached under and caught a digit on the switch. It flicked down, and Jazz fell into stasis. Trigger moved off the mech, falling to one side as his damaged leg protested messily. He hissed.

"You may be under, but you certainly left your mark," he grumbled, investigating the scorched plating.

::Trigger?:: Prowl pinged his long-range comm again. ::Should I come get him?::

Glad to hear the officer's vocals regardless of how Prowl would react, he replied. ::He's in medical stasis, sir, best he was back with you at base::

::Understood. Do either of you need Ratchet's attention?:: the TIC asked even, almost like he was taking a routine field report.

The question made him laugh, looking over and the Jazz who he'd respectfully turned on his back, ::He's good, me not so good::

::Skyfire, Ratchet and I will be there in approximately one point three joor. Be prepared to inform me of exactly what I will be calming him down from.:: There was a small pause. ::I expect his blade to be turned over when I arrive.::

Dragging himself to a large outcrop of rock, he leaned there and huffed through his vents. ::Understood.::

The channel closed, leaving him with one Saboteur in medical stasis, a damaged leg, and too much time to think about what he'd learned the last breem.

* * *

Trigger was in a slight crouch as he moved along over another embankment. His leg joint was functioning again, the CMO having sealed the open energon tube. When asked by a very grumpy Doc how it had happened, the hunter bot had glanced over at Jazz's frame with vent of air. He hadn't mentioned the Saboteur's blade. From the look Ratchet gave him, he didn't need to. He had a strong suspicion that the medic was quite familiar with the results of Jazz's rage.

Given that Prowl hadn't even questioned keeping the Saboteur in medical stasis until they were back in Diego Garcia, the TIC probably was too. He could just hope that they'd settle Jazz down by the time he got back.

Now he was able to actively peruse his next target, something that was almost impossible with Jazz. Although his scanners where almost useless in finding her, he did have her DNA sample that would make things a lot easier.

Much to his surprise, her trail led to the Congo itself, wide and relatively calm here, and deep. The perfect place for a giant amphibious creature to hide and set up an ambush.

The river was wide and slow, but despite that he was wary. His sensors could pick up on all kinds of life in all that liquid, but again they were useless in finding Amunet.

Joors, then an orn, then two, had passed as he navigated along the riverbank, prowling close to the jungle floor. The vegetation here was still overgrown but nowhere near as dense as where he and Jazz had fought.

He was sure she was here, under the water. After studying up on her animal form, he had a feeling it was going to be another long hunt. She was playing the ambush predator angle by all appearances.

Curse these organic's ability to blend so well with there surroundings! He grumbled but continued onwards, tracking a previous set of tracks left by the femme's animal form.

 _One step near that water and its all over_ he analyzed, HUD flashing through various scenarios, _But I doubt getting her out of there will happen any easier...hmmm._

He continued to stalk the edge of the water until he knew where she was; deep in the middle of the river, lying near the bottom. She moved every so often, but only by a few feet.

"I wonder" he processed, slipping a servo into his subspace pocket and pulling out a pulse emitter. It would give out his signal, not that she'd fall for it, but he was curious as to what she would do.

With a flick, it was tossed deliberately carelessly onto the bank before it slid down into the water. His HUD flashed as it sent out a faint pulse.

It flashed again as the device was assaulted by something when it got to deeper water. While large, at least the size of a smaller adult human, it was definitely not Amunet.

He grumbled, tweaking the controls so that the pulse became a charge. Whether that would stop the creature from eating the device, he doubted it but at least he'd get some kind of data from the sensor waves in the charge.

The creature, a very fish he was sure, exploded into movement at the charge, lashing and twisting about, before eventually letting go and swimming off. A bit of research marked the likely culprit as a Goliath Tiger Fish, the largest and most vicious of the river's known inhabitants.

 _Primus, some of the species on this planet..._ the beast was not as sentient as most, but had it been ... His frame shuddered at the thought, before turning the emitter closer to Amunet's position.

He scanned again, she seemed to just move a little every so often. Prowling, just like he had.

When the pulse emitter got within ten meters of her, she made a sudden undulating dart away, stopping when she'd put fifty meters between her and the emitter.

He transmitted coding to the device so it followed her but didn't if she tried to turn back, instead would circle round if possible. The mech left his spot, moving incredibly quickly in such overgrown conditions. He had to place motion detectors further up this river if he was to track her further.

Doing so would be tricky, as he had to get right up to the edge of the bank in order to do so. If the emitter kept Amunet busy it could work.

His attention partially on where she was and what she was doing, pleased that she seemed willing to let the emitter chase her about the river for the moment, he set his sensor pods up without interference beyond the local fish that occasionally mistook one for a meal.

Abruptly something far too large to be anything native appeared on his sensor sweep, though it was not Amunet, or even a relative. A fish, but _huge_ , at least eleven feet long.

He stilled, his HUD flashing up the far more pressing danger swimming closer to his position. How on Cybertron had this creature come into an area it wasn't native to, and how had it snuck up on him so efficiently?

He moved suddenly, unintentionally, his sensors picking up a spike in movement around him. It only just saved him from an impact with the business end of the huge fish, and at this close range his optics and sensors worked out what it was.

A shark.

A large, thick-bodied shark.

Outline in his processor, he narrowed the possible candidates down to one; a large female bull shark. A species renown for eating anything and everything, edible or not. What really caught his attention was how much metal, car parts, had been pulled out of their stomachs over the time humans had been paying attention.

His spark lunged dreadfully in its chamber, causing the mech to back pedal and scramble out of the water. Those beady black optics had startled him, and-and the car parts? He thought it was an organic.

"They eat us too?" he shook his frame from the muddy water, laying low to try and retain his secretive position.

No one answered him, but it couldn't stop his processors from creating horror stories based on what was known to come out of the big shark's stomachs. Rumors and stories could be discounted, but the humans were too casual about vehicles to fake at this quantity and quality of evidence. License plates were a common remain, but nearly every part had been pulled out of some shark or another.

Trying to rein in his sudden anxiety, Trigger added organic sharks to the small list of things he really, really didn't like.

He was pleased to see that most of his sensor where intact, bobbling along with the current of the river. They would provide the tracking, now he would just have to locate a suitable place to attempt an ambush.

He kept his attention on his network of emitters and sensors as he worked out a way to push her into a place of his advantage. There seemed to be enough of them. But to choose wrong would be to give her an advantage. He had time, experience, on her, but she had every other advantage, including being on home ground.

She wouldn't leave the safety of the water, that much was certain. So unless he drove her into an area of water that could be cordoned off from the rest, he had nothing. Those neural charges were useless now - this was an organic - so he rummaged around on his subspace and found little of use. He'd do the good old one on one stalk once he had her enclosed.

* * *

Days passed and Trigger struggled to fight off recharge. He knew he needed it, but he was also sure that she'd strike as soon as he cycled down for it.

His plan needed his full concentration to insure that it was flawless. A single gap in the perimeter, a faulty emitter or a knocked sensor pod could tip the scales in Amunet's favor.

But solar cycles after solar cycle with no recharge - due to his perfection tendencies - were severally hampering his efforts.

 **"Slag it!"** he growled in Cybertronian, whirring and clicking with irritation. It seemed to be affecting his mood and in turn his logic processor.

 _Great! I'm a walking target_ he thought as he failed to reconnect a faulty sensor pod, the wires thin and tricky.

He worked through his exhaustion, determined to see his security network fixed before catching a few joors recharge. The last think he needed was to go into forced stasis in the water where those car-eating sharks lived. He'd spotted _four_ of them over the days, and those were just the ones he picked up.

Though his optics dimmed threateningly at one point, the Pagani managed to reroute the power to the small device. Letting it bob off along the bank, he rose and came upon a safe space to recharge - the lower branches of a heavy-laden tree more than half a mile from the river. Hopefully it was far enough to stop Amunet from sneaking up on him.

As he settled in, all he could do was offer a small player to Primus to watch over him and trust his sensor net to rouse him if anything human-sized or larger came near.

* * *

An internal alarm roused him when he'd recharged enough to function well. As he assessed his surroundings, he was more than a bit surprised that she hadn't tried anything. But she was an ambush predator, given both her animal form, what he'd seen of her hunting for meat and her tactics on the battlefield. It made sense she'd wait for him to come to her.

 _All the more reason for caution_ he concluded, completing his routine assessment. Everything was in order, now for the bait. Flickering through the net, he came across a couple of suitable candidates from the area she'd like.

As he tried to finish pulling in the net, he felt a resistance greater than anything he had wanted to catch.

Fortifying his footing on the bank, pedes digging into the ground, Trigger gripped the net. Optical ridges drawing down, he sent a faint ping to his network, waiting for the feedback. Whatever was done there, he estimate, could probably put up quite a fight.

It pull back again, the kind of wild thrashing an animal did. It could be a shark, or a crocodile, possibly even a particularly large Tigerfish. Whatever it was, it could drag him further into the water every few moments.

When his scanners came back with only the very faintest traces of anything, Trigger's optics widened with sudden excitement. There was the lurking suspicion that this could indeed be another of those Undermaker forsaken sharks, but it was perfect.

However there was the strength issue. For such smaller organics, these fish sure had-

"Ah!" he exclaimed as the bank beneath him gave out. The earth was so saturated that it could no longer hold his weight. He hit the water with a resounding splash and loud revvs of his distressed/startled engine.

The net went completely slack. Then the water in front of him exploded into the giant crocodilian head, long neck and huge body of Amunet's war form as she lunged for him.

His HUD thrummed with all kinds of alerts as the black mech tried to leap backwards. He was already swamped with water, his movement hampered. Optics startlingly bright as Amunet displayed incredible grace despite her intentions. A single lunge and she was on him, her greater mass slamming him under the rushing muddy water as powerful hands grabbed him. Jaws, nearly large enough to cross his chassis, closed down on him as she kicked backwards, hauling him into deeper, faster moving water where she had even more of an advantage.

It was almost impossible to pinpoint anything specifically with his optics, water gushing around him so fast and murky. His servos tried to retaliate. But one was locked in between him and Amunet, the other frantically trying to scramble for purchase.

All to no avail.

::Surrender?:: her voice, full of amused satisfaction, came over his internal comm.

A whine sounded from within his chassis, HUD flashing up warnings about submerged systems beginning to offline to protect themselves. He growled defiantly, his pride as a hunter being wounded from all sides.

::I have no choice, either that or force offline:: he grumbled through the link. Even before he'd finished, he was rushing to the surface. Reflex forced him to gasp air the moment his first vent breached the surface, and before he'd even oriented himself, he was almost completely above water, resting on Amunet's broad chest as she used her powerful tail to swim towards the shore.

His vents heaved air into his systems, the alarms reducing until the last of the water drained out. Trigger slowly lifted his helm from Amunet's chest, optics watching the shore approaching eagerly.

"My pretty little mech," she rumbled with a light gurgle, her systems still running mostly under water. "How did you take Jazz?"

"Goading and neural charges," he vented as he spoke, flicking a piece of vegetation from his armor.

"Goading?" her voice carried the surprise her features couldn't as she set him on the bank. "What did you say to him? I can't imagine anything would make him snap," she asked with an affectionate nuzzle.

He stroked her scales idly, "Made a rather derogative comment about Prowl, he didn't take it too well. At all in fact. But I did what I had to bring him down."

She made a vibrating rumble of approval and rubbed her head against his side. "He is quite protective of his mate. A good trait, but exploitable. So, we have many days before the transport comes for us unless we call it. What do you want to do?"


	6. Making Peace

His wheels spun as he came to a stop off the plane, it felt good to be on solid ground again. He'd have to stop by medbay to get a checkup, but after that Trigger was eager for a decent wash down in the 'racks. He'd kept Amunet comfortable on the way back, staying in his alt form for the duration of the flight. So when the Captain was a safe distance away, he folded and morphed back into his bipedal self.

Door wings stretched up and out as he vented deeply, the humid air nothing to the Congo's heat. But it was nice to be back. He'd been considering going to visit the Salvage team to see if he could get any more free parts for his traps, seeing as Jazz had worked him dry. Thinking about the Saboteur left him rather cold, they hadn't parted on best terms. He only hoped that Prowl had managed to calm his bonded down. But seeing as the base was still standing, he must have done a good job.

Hopefully he could avoid his CO for a little while, know that soon enough their inevitable confrontation would happen.

::Prowl to Trigger,:: his internal comm beeped at him.

One optic brightened and he gave a grumble, the 'racks would have to wait.

::Trigger here,:: he answered, getting off the runway.

::Be aware that Jazz is on base. While he's not looking for you yet, be prepared to give a sincere apology or finish that fight when you do cross paths,:: the TIC told him calmly. ::He is still rather furious.::

::Understood,:: the hunter bot moved under cover, careful to avoid any organics about his large feet. He'd have to keep a beady optic open for the Saboteur.

::You have at least two joor before he will care that you have landed,:: Prowl added. ::He is quite involved with Whiplash at the moment.::

Grinning, Trigger moved down the hall way in search of the 'racks. ::I will get through my to-do list before my imminent offlining then. Thanks for the warning sir.::

::You are welcome,:: Prowl responded before closing the line, leaving Trigger to his shower, medical appointment and to compose his apology.

Trigger enjoyed the rather short wash down, the pressure of the water was wonderful on his sensitive servos and door wings. Though Ratchet's rather grumpy, ::Don't keep me waiting, I've got other mechs to see.:: put an end to the delight.

After a being thoroughly scanned, prodded and several bolts tightened, Trigger exited the medbay with a backward call of, "Thanks Doc" only receiving a vent of air in return.

Now, what to do until Jazz hunted him down? Or should he hunt Jazz down, be proactive about it?

He paused to look up the records on Whiplash, and shuddered. The lack of content on SpecOps agent spoke volumes about his missions. What little it did say didn't make Trigger feel any better about trying to go anywhere he was.

He growled. "Slagging OPs mechs."

He considered waiting until Jazz had finished with Whiplash, but he didn't know how long he'd be. His guess would be that 2 joors.

 _"Might as well grab a cube in the Rec room until then."_ After all, he had to figure out just what he was going to do, or say.

Those two joors passed by rather quickly in the time that Trigger sat contemplating. He knew fighting the Saboteur was suicide, so apologizing was his best option. But how to make the silver mech believe it was another matter.

Sure, he respected Prowl greatly, but Trigger believed he'd only said what was needed to get the job done. Truthfully, his pride was telling him to slag it all and say no. But it would make his stay here impossible, or even see him prematurely offlined.

So tossing the datapad he'd been pretending to analyze down, the Pagani vented and stretched. He plodded out the rec room in search of Jazz. As an afterthought, he pinged the base computer, just to see if Jazz was 'visible' on it ... As SIC he must be locatable much of the time.

It came back with 'Sparring Field 2'.

"Sparring Field? Perfect. Just begging to kick my aft" he grumbled inwardly, following the directions given to him by the main computer.

Door wings raised slightly, he followed the route with some reluctance. The closer to the sparring pitch he got, the more and more mechs he came across. His optical ridges lowered and he vented quietly, so much for doing this privately.

He worked his way to the near edge of the sparring field he caught sight of why there was so much attention. Jazz was paired off against a white mech nearly as large as Ironhide but with sleek lines and a grace that made him an equal to the small silver mech he was up against. Both were equipped with blades; Jazz the long daggers he seemed to prefer, though this pair were not forged energon, while the white mech had two longswords of intricate design.

"Who're you betting on?" a silver mech near twice Trigger's height asked cheerfully.

He was on edge this close to others, his door wings snapped shut when the tall silver mech spoke. His HUD flickered through files and the name Sideswipe popped up. A frontliner.

Optics glanced up at Sideswipe before flitting back to the fight. "Don't know the other mech," he watched Jazz move with deadly grace, "So my credits would be on Jazz."

A gleeful chuckle rumbled from Sideswipe. "You chipping in on the pool then?"

Optics brightened for a moment considering, before Trigger shook his helm and took out the required credits. "What have I got to lose ... but my aft," he grumbled the last part.

"Oh?" Sideswipe was suddenly _very_ interested even as he recorded the bet and took the credit chips. "You going up against one of'm next?"

Venting, Trigger's doors twitched. "If I'm not good at apologies then yeah, more than likely."

Sideswipe's optic ridge lifted, then a surprised look flashed across his features. "So you're the reason he's been in the Unmaker's mood since he got back." He looked at the much smaller mech with a new level of appraisal that gradually shifted to approval. "Okay, color me impressed. What in Primus' name did you do that got him so torqued off?"

Moving restlessly, Trigger watched the sparring pair whilst he spoke. "Broke the number one code, never insult someone's bonded."

Sideswipe twitched, a short burst of static escaping his vocalizer before he controlled himself, only to lose it a moment later into peals of laughter.

"Oh pits, no wonder he wanted to kill somebody," bright ice-blue optics glittered in delight. "So you used Prowl to trip him up enough to send him home?" there was no masking the glee in the frontliner's voice. "I'll treat you to a cube of my special brew if you come over and give a full retelling."

Even as Trigger worked out the offer, a surprised sound rippled across the crowd as Drift took advantage of Jazz's momentary distraction to punch him squarely in the chest, sending the much smaller mech sailing across the sparring field to a tumbling stop on the far side.

"Assuming you survive the next couple breems," the golden twin of Sideswipe spoke up.

Trigger's servos revolved before he could stop himself, his machine gun creaking. But he halted the transformation as Jazz rolled to a stop, yellow optics narrowing to stalk his every move now.

"You don't say," he muttered, not meaning to sound rude as his attention was elsewhere. "I'm no fragging brawler, for my sake I hope this is quick."

"If he's really out to kill you, it will be," Sunstreaker said with a grunt as Jazz rejoined the match with Drift. "Prime doesn't let him draw it out."

"That's good to know, less scrap metal that way," he vented, glancing at the sudden appearance of the second twin. He'd heard about these two, now that he could see them together it was clear they were a formidable force, custom built for the war effort.

Attention focused back on the blade battle of size vs. agility. They were both scoring hits here and there, but neither seemed to have a clear edge. Trigger expected Jazz would win, but not quickly. They were both definitely determined fighters.

He watched with a tense frame, door wings tightly shut. It would take time for this match to finish and it gave him time to analyze his situation.

* * *

The match ended with a sudden move where Jazz knocked Drift's legs out from under him and had his longer blade braced against the samurai's chest plates, tip above his spark.

"I yield," Drift actually smiled up at the small silver mech as he extended his arms and let his swords fall from his fingers.

The clatter of Drift's blades had jolted the hunter bot from his brooding, optics slightly wide in alarm. He was pleased to see the outcome of the fight. One, this confrontation could be over and done with soon, which ever way it tilted. And two, he had low on credit chips. Even though this betting pool wouldn't have a big payout, he'd pick up a few extra from choosing Jazz.

"Pit of a match," Jazz grinned and flipped his short sword up and into subspace and offered a hand up to his opponent. "You've gotten a lot better since Diremitri Six.."

"Thank you," Drift accepted the hand, though he dealt with much of his own mass as his stood.

Bracing himself, Trigger moved passed a couple of mechs to come into line of plain sight. But he was more than convinced that the Saboteur knew he was there. "Jazz..."

Jazz flashed him a look of acknowledgment before stepping away from Drift and exchanging a formal bow with the larger mech. Only then did he fully turn and motioned Trigger to follow him away from the crowd.

Trigger following cautiously after the silver mech and avoided the curious optics that followed them. He wasn't sure how much anyone knew, but he had little doubt most had put two and two together by now and realized he was a likely cause of their SIC's fowl mood lately.

Jazz turned to face him when they were in the relative privacy between a couple storage buildings and regarded him evenly, offering the hunter the first chance to talk.

He faced Jazz squarely, but kept his posture as loose as he could. "What I said during the hunt was unfair and cruel. For that, I apologize." Optics dimmed slightly as he continued, "Prowl is excellent commander. I was wrong to say what I did." Those optics narrowed ever so slightly. "I will however add that I did what I felt necessary to complete my mission. And I will stand by that."

Jazz shifted, one hip dropping as he settled his hands on them. There was a moment of judgment, and he nodded. "Apology accepted, and I happen to agree with you." He brought both his arms forward, fingers splayed and arms at an angle that would make targeting Trigger with anything mounted in them difficult and pulling a subspaced weapon even harder. "Peace?"

Trigger's door wings betrayed him and lifted ever so slightly, his yellow optics bright with caution. This was too easy. Not just like that? Surely?

But in order to progress, he hesitantly copied the gesture of neutrality. "Peace."

"Good," Jazz relaxed, then cracked a grin. "Yes, really that easy. You did get it right, Prowl's my weakness. He wants peace, so I'll make peace, even when that means forgiving an insult to him."

The hunter bot seemed to sag ever so slightly, relief evident. "It was an interesting lesson regardless. As was the entire hunt. I'll have to work on my perimeters so they don't give my processor such an afterburn."

"It was a good hunt," Jazz's grin got a little more real. "Maybe we'll try again, say the desert next time and invite a couple more variables?"

**Author's Note:**

> Title: **POV: Trigger Happy**  
>  Published: 07-13-10, Updated: 09-22-10  
>  **Fandom** : Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)/World of Darkness (Mokole centric)  
>  **Author** : Gatekat and baka_no_neko on LJ  
>  **Pairing** : Trigger/Amunet Mubarak  
>  **Rating** : NC-17 for mech/female  
>  **Codes** : Het, Sticky, Xeno (Transformer/Human), Supernatural  
>  **Summary** : Trigger's new on base and is looking a little lost.  
>  **Notes** : Set in the Point of View fanverse at <http://community.livejournal.com/tf_matrix>  
> Amunet Mubarak (all dressed up): <http://gatekat.deviantart.com/art/Amunet-Mubarak-sketch-192756879>


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